The weekend is here at last. This is good because I have no talent for waking up at 6:45. The rest of the day is practically wasted, at least until I have a nap. Luckily classes end at one, so I get to have a nap EVERY DAY. I miss, I so desperately miss, the life of a student. Apart from all the studying, that is.
Speaking of studying, I'm becoming increasingly worried about this test. I took a practice test this week, and it was miserably awful and stupid and hard. The problem is that here, the teaching methods vary so greatly that it's hard for me to learn. For instance, I could study every word that I've ever been taught in class, but there's no real curriculum, see? so maybe the test will have what I've learned, and maybe it will have what the class down the hall learned. One key word that I don't know in a text, and I'm kind of ****ed. So it's the luck of the test, basically. Luck was ot with me this week, but maybe on the real test? The problem is there's no way to know for sure. So here's hoping.
But being in Jerusalem again makes it all worth it. I forgot how much I loved it here--have I mentioned that yet? I wake up happy, I go to school happy, I come home happy. Israelis are loud, aggressive, annoying, and I love them. One minute they'll be yelling at you, then the next they're inviting you for dinner. Even the rage is the intimate rage of families.
I've gotten accustomed once again to the idiosyncrasies of Israeli life: the straightforward nature of the people; the teenage soldiers with their machine guns sitting next to me on the bus; the handing over of my bag to be inspected before I go into the library, the supermarket, the mall; the stray cats that are everywhere in the city; the black hats and sidelocks walking along beside girls with miniskirts worn up to their necks.
I spent an hour on the bus yesterday when a large group of Hassidim blocked the street to protest the building of a train through their neigborhood. Then last night, I went to this live concert under the stars--free of course for students--and drank arak till I was dizzy, while during breaks they played HaTikvah, Israel's national anthem, to celebrate 40 years since the 1967 war that gave Israel back the Western Wall. It's just the beginning of the summer, and Jerusalem is gearing up for all the events that happen, one after the other, concerts and film festivals and parties, all of which are so different from New York events in that they're A) free, and B) crowded enough to be fun, but never to crowded to get in. How will I ever go back??
Thursday, July 05, 2007
Saturday, June 30, 2007
At Last, an Exhale
I've been very busy this week, but I'm afraid it's only been with pretty boring things. Between struggling through my Hebrew homework and sweating through my work for Success, I haven't had much time to do anything. But I finally finished my article on Wednesday, and to celebrate I called Tammy in Tel Aviv and headed down there to spend the weekend with her. We alternated time between the beach and Tel Aviv nightlife, which was great fun. I only just got back to Jerusalem, having waited for Shabbat to go out before the trek, so it's late and I'm tired and sun-spent. I think I'll eat something and then read myself to sleep. Ah, bliss.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Two nights in Munich
I arrived in Israel in the wee hours of the morning, hot and exhausted, and proceeded to my apartment to sleep fitfully for a few hours before heading to Hebrew class. All is well and peaceful in Jerusalem, but I still owe a post or two to Germany before I bring you across the water.
So, Munich. My first night there, Andy and I packed a picnic and sat down by the river eating sausages and drinking wine, surrounded by teenage Bavarians who were doing the same, only with more cigarettes. You can see them behind us here:
Then we walked for hours around the city, Andy showing me such landmarks as he knew, and snapping pictures of various old buildings and clocks and the like.
The next day I was on my own, and I wandered to a few museums, including one that, oddly enough, has an exhibit from CLEVELAND. There was my hometown, smack in the middle of Germany. Obviously I went to the museum, but I didn'y pay the extra 2 euro to see the Cleveland stuff because hey, I can see it anytime.
Next I went to the Residenz, home of multiple Bavarian kings, including crazy old Ludwig III (or was it the II?), who had an obsession with building castles he would never live in and died mysteriously. Apparently the kings of Bavaria couldn't stand to live in the same chambers as their predecessors, so they would just build a new wing, resulting in a walk through the assorted over-the-top styles of Europe. I especially like the Baroque style, and hope my parents will consider it for their bedroom that they are at long last remodeling. They could line the walls with gilt mirrors and portraits of their daughters:
Things I also saw:
1. The big church, the name of which I don't recall, that is the symbol of Munich. No building can be higher than its spires, visible behind me. (see, I really was there!!)
2. The Hofbrauhaus, 400-and-some-year-old brewery and inn and sight of who knows how many barfights, where in modern times old people come to drink and Asian people come to take pictures.
I saw this group of men, looking so Sound of Music (yes I know it was Austria) that I had to take a picture. My first thought was how adorable they were. My second, of course and inevitably: where were they during the war? How old were they? What were their parents doing? I got used to this doubletake at seeing anyone over the age of seventy in Germany.
3. And last but not least, lots of tacky things I didn't buy.
So, Munich. My first night there, Andy and I packed a picnic and sat down by the river eating sausages and drinking wine, surrounded by teenage Bavarians who were doing the same, only with more cigarettes. You can see them behind us here:
I look very carefree drinking out of a plastic cup.
Andy eating milch strudel and letting Germany know what he thinks about fascism.
Then we walked for hours around the city, Andy showing me such landmarks as he knew, and snapping pictures of various old buildings and clocks and the like.
The next day I was on my own, and I wandered to a few museums, including one that, oddly enough, has an exhibit from CLEVELAND. There was my hometown, smack in the middle of Germany. Obviously I went to the museum, but I didn'y pay the extra 2 euro to see the Cleveland stuff because hey, I can see it anytime.
Next I went to the Residenz, home of multiple Bavarian kings, including crazy old Ludwig III (or was it the II?), who had an obsession with building castles he would never live in and died mysteriously. Apparently the kings of Bavaria couldn't stand to live in the same chambers as their predecessors, so they would just build a new wing, resulting in a walk through the assorted over-the-top styles of Europe. I especially like the Baroque style, and hope my parents will consider it for their bedroom that they are at long last remodeling. They could line the walls with gilt mirrors and portraits of their daughters:
Things I also saw:
1. The big church, the name of which I don't recall, that is the symbol of Munich. No building can be higher than its spires, visible behind me. (see, I really was there!!)
2. The Hofbrauhaus, 400-and-some-year-old brewery and inn and sight of who knows how many barfights, where in modern times old people come to drink and Asian people come to take pictures.
I saw this group of men, looking so Sound of Music (yes I know it was Austria) that I had to take a picture. My first thought was how adorable they were. My second, of course and inevitably: where were they during the war? How old were they? What were their parents doing? I got used to this doubletake at seeing anyone over the age of seventy in Germany.
3. And last but not least, lots of tacky things I didn't buy.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
A Not So Brief Apology
Yes, I know... Promises were made and promises broken on this blog. But what can I say? Internet connection is spotty, and I am just having too much fun to make good on things written after a few fine beers.
So I owe you a few days. Well here's one: the first day here.
First I took a nap. I sent Luise and Andy (who came to visit from Munich) off on their merry way and slept. After a couple hours I was awake enough to go see some German stuff, and it's a good thing I slept because we rode around the entire city. Or so it seemed at the time. I must say I miss riding a bike. In spite of the fact that every time I got on and off I accidentally flashed a few naughty bits to unsuspecting Germans, and in spite of the fact that it turned said naughty bits black and blue after several days, I had a ball. I also think I look very good on a bike. I present as evidence: Luise and myself on bicycles, looking very posh and European.
Luise gave us a very nice tour of East Berlin, which included:
1. The Cafe Moskau, visible behind Andy, which was THE place to come in the glory days of the GDR and where East Germans came to dance the night away beside their soviet brethren.
2. The Fernsehturm, or television tower, pride of the GDR, visible behind Luise, who can now have a banana any time she wants one.
3. The "World Clock." Luise tells us that it was where her countrymen gathered to travel. "It was like seeing the world!" she says. Except that it's a big clock. We told her to stand in front of it and look deprived, but it was just too ingrained in her to smile at the tourist destination of her childhood. She must have so many happy memories there.
4. The statue of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, deities of the socialist state. That would be Andy peeking out from behind their stately grandeur.
Some things were not as funny. Some things, in fact, were pretty difficult.
Like Brandenburg gate, scene of numerous Nazi rallies and marches. I haven't really gotten into what it feels like to visit Germany in terms of its atrocities, but there's time enough for that. Suffice it to say that I didn't want to ride through that gate. And I would have given it the finger except that I don't want to scandalize my mother on the Internet (though I'm sure she shares my sentiment).
These are memorials to the people who were shot trying to escape from the GDR. The last one was a 21-year-old boy, who was shot to death in February 1989, just nine months before the wall came down.
We must have ridden for several hours, stopping intermittently to drink a beer or eat, if you can believe it, enormous pretzels.
At night, Luise took us to this incredible place, the Ballhaus, a little ways from her apartment. It's been open for a hundred years, and has been used as a restaurant and dance hall for most of that time, barring the war years when Goebbels shut it down as it perpetuated "activities not in line with the ideals of the state" or something, which I suppose meant people having a good time that didn't involve torture of some kind.
Before we went inside, Luise led us up this old staircase where we found this:
You can't see it very well, but it was the old ballroom reserved for the wealthy, while the less fortunate danced downstairs. They left it exactly as it stood after the war, damaged and dessicated.
Downstairs, of course, had been rebuilt, but it's still used as a dance hall. People of all ages (it made me realize how rare it is to see intergenerational social events that aren't weddings or funerals) dance to old time music, and it was a blast. We ate meatballs and schnitzel and drank Riesling, and Luise and I danced until the floor was too hot and smoky for us to stand it.
When we could dance no more, we wobbled away on our bikes, bought more beers, and sat on the edge of the river until I was too tired to think straight. It was a wonderful day.
So I owe you a few days. Well here's one: the first day here.
First I took a nap. I sent Luise and Andy (who came to visit from Munich) off on their merry way and slept. After a couple hours I was awake enough to go see some German stuff, and it's a good thing I slept because we rode around the entire city. Or so it seemed at the time. I must say I miss riding a bike. In spite of the fact that every time I got on and off I accidentally flashed a few naughty bits to unsuspecting Germans, and in spite of the fact that it turned said naughty bits black and blue after several days, I had a ball. I also think I look very good on a bike. I present as evidence: Luise and myself on bicycles, looking very posh and European.
And a closeup:
Luise gave us a very nice tour of East Berlin, which included:
1. The Cafe Moskau, visible behind Andy, which was THE place to come in the glory days of the GDR and where East Germans came to dance the night away beside their soviet brethren.
2. The Fernsehturm, or television tower, pride of the GDR, visible behind Luise, who can now have a banana any time she wants one.
3. The "World Clock." Luise tells us that it was where her countrymen gathered to travel. "It was like seeing the world!" she says. Except that it's a big clock. We told her to stand in front of it and look deprived, but it was just too ingrained in her to smile at the tourist destination of her childhood. She must have so many happy memories there.
4. The statue of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, deities of the socialist state. That would be Andy peeking out from behind their stately grandeur.
Some things were not as funny. Some things, in fact, were pretty difficult.
Like Brandenburg gate, scene of numerous Nazi rallies and marches. I haven't really gotten into what it feels like to visit Germany in terms of its atrocities, but there's time enough for that. Suffice it to say that I didn't want to ride through that gate. And I would have given it the finger except that I don't want to scandalize my mother on the Internet (though I'm sure she shares my sentiment).
These are memorials to the people who were shot trying to escape from the GDR. The last one was a 21-year-old boy, who was shot to death in February 1989, just nine months before the wall came down.
We must have ridden for several hours, stopping intermittently to drink a beer or eat, if you can believe it, enormous pretzels.
At night, Luise took us to this incredible place, the Ballhaus, a little ways from her apartment. It's been open for a hundred years, and has been used as a restaurant and dance hall for most of that time, barring the war years when Goebbels shut it down as it perpetuated "activities not in line with the ideals of the state" or something, which I suppose meant people having a good time that didn't involve torture of some kind.
Before we went inside, Luise led us up this old staircase where we found this:
You can't see it very well, but it was the old ballroom reserved for the wealthy, while the less fortunate danced downstairs. They left it exactly as it stood after the war, damaged and dessicated.
Downstairs, of course, had been rebuilt, but it's still used as a dance hall. People of all ages (it made me realize how rare it is to see intergenerational social events that aren't weddings or funerals) dance to old time music, and it was a blast. We ate meatballs and schnitzel and drank Riesling, and Luise and I danced until the floor was too hot and smoky for us to stand it.
Andy and Luise looking like they're on a date.
Me and Andy, pre-dancing mania.
The band, playing all the old favorites.
When we could dance no more, we wobbled away on our bikes, bought more beers, and sat on the edge of the river until I was too tired to think straight. It was a wonderful day.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Der Flohmarkt
So I am safe and sound in Berlin. The flight was not terrible, aside from the extremely loud American student who talked the whole way about nothing (read: "pronoun like verbed to the like noun, and pronoun verbed like with the like adjective noun and like totally verbed!") in a very loud voice right behind me. I have vague trazedone-hazed memories of composing a long and angry diatribe about her on this blog while I was trying, unsuccessfully, to sleep. But I am here now and most of my bitterness has dried up in the on-and-off Berlin sunshine.
So you'll have to wait for the details of my first day here, as I forgot my camera and thus had to take pictures with Andy's camera and now have to wait until I see him in Munich to get them...bla bla bla...excuses excuses....end result: I'll write about yesterday today, and today tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow and two days ago the day after tomorrow. You see? You'll get two days in one! It'll be a special treat, like when you were allowed two scoops of ice cream and you could choose TWO ENTIRELY DIFFERENT FLAVORS. Ah, bliss. I find it hard to wait myself!
Anyway... yesterday. We (meaning Luise, Andy, and myself) had coffee and croissants on Luise's balcony, then hopped on our bicycles and rode to this huge flea market, where Andy promptly got lost and we spent the next hour alternating between looking at stuff and looking for him. Once we had him safely back in our company, we decided we were hungry. And in Germany of course that means it's time to find some wursts.
So find them we did, and sat with wursts and beers (actually Radlers, beers mixed with Sprite...they come prebottled at the flea market!!!) in this inner courtyard that was covered with sand and hippie-esque Germans who were also eating wursts and drinking Radlers.
Behind Andy, who ate not one but TWO wursts, you can get a better idea of the crowd. What you cannot see are the three men passed out sleeping on the couch behind us, while a baby, who we found out later belonged to one of them, played with her feet and made cute baby noises from a stroller parked next to them.
After Andy flew home to Munich, Luise and I decided it was time to eat. Again. So we had spatzle, and my but it was good.
And after we ate spatzle and had what was most likely our sixth beer of the day, we went to see "Notes on a Scandal" at an open air cinema, where we had a bottle of wine and sat cooing happily (Luise, of course, talked the whole time) and looking very much like fat old ladies until the wee hours of the night.
So you'll have to wait for the details of my first day here, as I forgot my camera and thus had to take pictures with Andy's camera and now have to wait until I see him in Munich to get them...bla bla bla...excuses excuses....end result: I'll write about yesterday today, and today tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow and two days ago the day after tomorrow. You see? You'll get two days in one! It'll be a special treat, like when you were allowed two scoops of ice cream and you could choose TWO ENTIRELY DIFFERENT FLAVORS. Ah, bliss. I find it hard to wait myself!
Anyway... yesterday. We (meaning Luise, Andy, and myself) had coffee and croissants on Luise's balcony, then hopped on our bicycles and rode to this huge flea market, where Andy promptly got lost and we spent the next hour alternating between looking at stuff and looking for him. Once we had him safely back in our company, we decided we were hungry. And in Germany of course that means it's time to find some wursts.
So find them we did, and sat with wursts and beers (actually Radlers, beers mixed with Sprite...they come prebottled at the flea market!!!) in this inner courtyard that was covered with sand and hippie-esque Germans who were also eating wursts and drinking Radlers.
Behind Andy, who ate not one but TWO wursts, you can get a better idea of the crowd. What you cannot see are the three men passed out sleeping on the couch behind us, while a baby, who we found out later belonged to one of them, played with her feet and made cute baby noises from a stroller parked next to them.
After Andy flew home to Munich, Luise and I decided it was time to eat. Again. So we had spatzle, and my but it was good.
And after we ate spatzle and had what was most likely our sixth beer of the day, we went to see "Notes on a Scandal" at an open air cinema, where we had a bottle of wine and sat cooing happily (Luise, of course, talked the whole time) and looking very much like fat old ladies until the wee hours of the night.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Testing 1, 2, 3
It's been two years since I kept a blog. In that time, I left Israel, moved to New York with Dave, broke up with Dave, converted to Orthodox Judaism (why, oh why did I not keep a blog during that bizarre fourteen months?), settled happily into life as a bad (read: reform) Jew, became an editor at a business magazine, and got myself published. What I did not do in this highly productive time is BOTHER TO GRADUATE FROM HEBREW UNIVERSITY. So tomorrow I'm off to visit Luise in Berlin en route to Israel, where I am going for six weeks to finally get the albatross of my masters degree surgically removed from its current location around my neck.
You can read about it if you want.
You can read about it if you want.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
My last post in israel?
I leave Israel in two and a half days. It is heading towards me far too quickly, which is strange. I almost never leave a place before I am ready to leave it. Usually I am in a terrible rush--no matter how happy I was in some non-homey place--to get home. HOME. I am so excited to be with the familiar, the family, the people and places that I love, but this is the most bittersweet little exit I've ever made. Mostly because the whole color of the world has changed for me. While I am accustomed to looking forward to the mundane everyday activities that make home home, (Mom setting the table, Dad fixing me a drink before dinner, sisters laughing or fighting, Koti following me around, bla bla bla a hundred simple little happinesses), and I still do, it is hard to imagine them all happening without HIM there. This is particularly strange because he has never been a part of any of these things, they have always occurred, quite naturally, without him. But now, pretty much anything that happens without him feels unnatural, and all my silly, wonderful memories are not enough to make the new yet-to-be-made memories worthwhile if he is not there to make them with me.
There is so much more to write, updates on what I've been up to during my last two week respite, but now I am too sad and melancholy.
Let me just say Happy Birthday to my Papa, the best Papa of ever, who I love and love and love, and to Wes, who's also okay in my book...(wink and smile)
There is so much more to write, updates on what I've been up to during my last two week respite, but now I am too sad and melancholy.
Let me just say Happy Birthday to my Papa, the best Papa of ever, who I love and love and love, and to Wes, who's also okay in my book...(wink and smile)
Thursday, June 23, 2005
School's out for summer...
I passed my Hebrew exam, so I officially have only one more class to take, which I suppose I will do in New York next year. As for Arabic, no news on how I did, but I spent over four hours on the test. By the end I was so hungry (forgot to eat beforehand...stupid) I was shaking and so tired I couldn't concentrate. So I guess we'll see how it went!
Sunday, June 19, 2005
Three more weeks
I changed my flight date. Or, rather, I bought a new ticket, as changing the date proved to be impossible. If I hadn't done this, however, I would be leaving in four days, which is remarkably soon. I am pleased with my exorbitant choice.
I have one exam left. I still haven't gotten the results of my Hebrew exam, but here's hoping I passed. Arabic is tomorrow, so in a few minutes I'm off to some coffee shop somewhere to immerse myself in squiggly lines. Hooray!
I have one exam left. I still haven't gotten the results of my Hebrew exam, but here's hoping I passed. Arabic is tomorrow, so in a few minutes I'm off to some coffee shop somewhere to immerse myself in squiggly lines. Hooray!
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Um...well then
Well.
I must admit, it was probably not such a good idea to quit posting after that last one. I assure you I am much more stable now, and slightly embarrassed that my emotional ravings have been on display and uncapped for so long.
I am very well. Doped up on the Paxil again, of course, but well nonetheless. And, as it turns out, the entire class failed that exam, took it again, and failed a second time. So I don't feel too bad or too crazy.
I come home very, very soon and my heart feels split in two. I am happy, at the moment I am happy, but a divided heart is a bit of a burden. I will miss this place much more than I care to dwell on, so much so that I try to calculate when in my life I could possibly live here again...sigh and sigh.
I was in the States a week or so again, however, and I must admit I miss my country a lot a lot. It was very good to be home, where people understand me. I am excited about staying there for a while.
I'm sorry that there haven't been many updates lately; my computer at home won't let me on the typepad site, so I have to come to school to write, which is, you know, a hassle and all.
But I will try to be better.
I must admit, it was probably not such a good idea to quit posting after that last one. I assure you I am much more stable now, and slightly embarrassed that my emotional ravings have been on display and uncapped for so long.
I am very well. Doped up on the Paxil again, of course, but well nonetheless. And, as it turns out, the entire class failed that exam, took it again, and failed a second time. So I don't feel too bad or too crazy.
I come home very, very soon and my heart feels split in two. I am happy, at the moment I am happy, but a divided heart is a bit of a burden. I will miss this place much more than I care to dwell on, so much so that I try to calculate when in my life I could possibly live here again...sigh and sigh.
I was in the States a week or so again, however, and I must admit I miss my country a lot a lot. It was very good to be home, where people understand me. I am excited about staying there for a while.
I'm sorry that there haven't been many updates lately; my computer at home won't let me on the typepad site, so I have to come to school to write, which is, you know, a hassle and all.
But I will try to be better.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Cracking up slowly
I failed a test today, for the first time since high school. I am not in a good state. The combination of stressing out over school, preparing to leave the country that I love, and uncertainty over the future has me teetering on the edge of fear and panic. And things with Dave being so precarious at the moment has pushed me dangerously close to despair. (That's a lie. I am right smack in the middle of despair.) The result of all of these little messes is that I can't sleep, can barely eat, and certainly can't concentrate on school.
So I failed my Arabic test. Last night I remember thinking: I should study for this test. I really, honestly should. And then I remember thinking: I don't have one ounce of strength left. I had to leave my apartment, get out, see people. I was on the way into town when Dave called, and he was near my apartment, but I'd already left, and that knocked the wind out of me even more. I tried to play it cool, but I don't know how to play it anymore.
And then this morning I was staring at this test, and I couldn't make myself care about it at all. I left most of it blank, and half-heartedly filled in the rest. I am alternating between an eerie numbness and the sudden inability to keep myself from crying. Not good.
So I failed my Arabic test. Last night I remember thinking: I should study for this test. I really, honestly should. And then I remember thinking: I don't have one ounce of strength left. I had to leave my apartment, get out, see people. I was on the way into town when Dave called, and he was near my apartment, but I'd already left, and that knocked the wind out of me even more. I tried to play it cool, but I don't know how to play it anymore.
And then this morning I was staring at this test, and I couldn't make myself care about it at all. I left most of it blank, and half-heartedly filled in the rest. I am alternating between an eerie numbness and the sudden inability to keep myself from crying. Not good.
Friday, April 29, 2005
28 years...
A recent request from my grandmother has prompted me to at last sit down and write an update. I really don't have much excuse for not having written in so long; the truth is, I haven't had a whole lot to say. Not that I haven't been doing anything. Here's a quick review of the past month:
We celebrated Luise's birthday by piling into cars and heading out of the city to some big national park--I forget the name--and having a BBQ on the side of a cliff. Later that week, Shadi invited us to his home in East Jerusalem, where his family cooked up for us an Arab feast and we watched Shadi in a Palestinian movie. Tom flew into town and we celebrated yet another birthday on the balcony with wine and sachertorte. The next week was, of course, my birthday, and my friends took me out to eat a few days before, as the actual day fell during vacation and no one was here. Well, not no one--Dave was here, and we spent the day together, and he made me feel loved and special and not too old. Last week was vacation, and Dave and I spent most of it together--at the Israel Museum (free entrance!), the cinematheque, a concert at the dead sea, cooking kosher-for-passover meals (um...salad, basically), etc. Last Saturday was the seder and we spent it with a British family in Baka, which was wonderful. Nobody asked me to read in Hebrew, to my delight, and they actually went through the entire Hagaddah, which took about four hours or so. I didn't drink four glasses of wine, but I should have. Maybe then I would have joined in some of the singing.
Anyway, I've finally posted some pictures of Egypt for your enjoyment. There shall be more presently. I'll try to be better with keeping up!
We celebrated Luise's birthday by piling into cars and heading out of the city to some big national park--I forget the name--and having a BBQ on the side of a cliff. Later that week, Shadi invited us to his home in East Jerusalem, where his family cooked up for us an Arab feast and we watched Shadi in a Palestinian movie. Tom flew into town and we celebrated yet another birthday on the balcony with wine and sachertorte. The next week was, of course, my birthday, and my friends took me out to eat a few days before, as the actual day fell during vacation and no one was here. Well, not no one--Dave was here, and we spent the day together, and he made me feel loved and special and not too old. Last week was vacation, and Dave and I spent most of it together--at the Israel Museum (free entrance!), the cinematheque, a concert at the dead sea, cooking kosher-for-passover meals (um...salad, basically), etc. Last Saturday was the seder and we spent it with a British family in Baka, which was wonderful. Nobody asked me to read in Hebrew, to my delight, and they actually went through the entire Hagaddah, which took about four hours or so. I didn't drink four glasses of wine, but I should have. Maybe then I would have joined in some of the singing.
Anyway, I've finally posted some pictures of Egypt for your enjoyment. There shall be more presently. I'll try to be better with keeping up!
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Passion Week
I've gone to the synagogue these past two weeks on Friday night. I went with Dave, but we couldn't sit together, so before it started, my first time there, he very kindly took me into a corner with a prayer book and showed me where to read. I followed along all right, only getting lost at the parts where everyone reads to themselves. The service is fairly short--an hour, maybe an hour and a half--and a lot of it is strangely familiar to me, except for the fact that it's all in Hebrew. Part of it comes from the Psalms--92 through 99, or something like that--which I find, in an odd way, truly comforting. These are Psalms I used to memorize (in English of course) and say out loud in bed, on long walks, in airplanes, when I was happy, or sad, or anxious. Psalm 96 especially. It has a strange effect on me when I hear it sung in Hebrew. It makes me feel thick and liquid inside. There's no explaining it, but there it is. It makes me miss and miss and miss God.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Thoughts
My strep is gone, my papers are in, I'm all caught up in all my classes...life is pretty good right now. However, there's not much to write about. Things have definitely returned to the happy and humdrum. I go to school, come home, spend time with Dave or my friends, eat, and sleep.
I wish I could stay here, just for another year or so, perfect (ha) my Hebrew, continue with Arabic, get a job and settle in. There are lots of reasons to stay, but lots of reasons to go as well. I'm pretty much wavering between spending the next year here or in New York. I miss my country, but what the hell would I do there for a year? What would I do here? I'm too old to not know these things yet.
I wish I could stay here, just for another year or so, perfect (ha) my Hebrew, continue with Arabic, get a job and settle in. There are lots of reasons to stay, but lots of reasons to go as well. I'm pretty much wavering between spending the next year here or in New York. I miss my country, but what the hell would I do there for a year? What would I do here? I'm too old to not know these things yet.
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
Sick again
I've been very busy lately, been spending a lot of time out with friends, which means I've kind of been slacking off at school. I've noticed something: when I am depressed, as I was last semester, I am unable to work. When I am happy, as I am this semester, I am unable to work. Thus, for me to be productive at all, I have to exist in a state of perpetual boring emotional calm, as I was last year. Not too happy, not too sad. Hmmm. This does not bode so well for me.
But at least I am happy. There are so many people around all of a sudden, and there is constantly something to do. I am taking, as I said, an easy load this semester, but it still somehow feels like a lot. Maybe that's because I still have classes from last year hanging over my head--two papers due tomorrow, neither of which I have started. No worries, though. Give me three or four hours and they'll be done.
I also have strep throat, which basically sucks. I am not a good sick person. I moan and whimper and whine. Ah, but soon this too shall pass away.
But at least I am happy. There are so many people around all of a sudden, and there is constantly something to do. I am taking, as I said, an easy load this semester, but it still somehow feels like a lot. Maybe that's because I still have classes from last year hanging over my head--two papers due tomorrow, neither of which I have started. No worries, though. Give me three or four hours and they'll be done.
I also have strep throat, which basically sucks. I am not a good sick person. I moan and whimper and whine. Ah, but soon this too shall pass away.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
A new semester
I just realized how long it's been since I've posted. I've noticed that I have a tendency to write when I'm upset over something, which no doubt has led some people to believe that I'm a miserable and depressed person. That certainly doesn't feel like the case lately--I swear it must be the weather. The sun is coming out, Spring is on it's away, and everything has taken on a whole new color. I feel hopeful and happy, and am painfully aware that I only have four months left here.
I've finished two of my papers from last semester, and have only two more to go. Second semester has begun, and I am determined to throw myself into my work--Hebrew especially. I am only taking Hebrew, Arabic, and two classes this semester, Modern Christian Spirituality and Christian Mysticism, so I'm hoping to have more time to study my languages. I have to pass the Hebrew exemption exam at the end of this semester, and my prospects are pretty gloomy. We'll see.
As far as non-academic stuff goes, Bernd has come into town for a month, which of course makes me very happy. Last night the whole neighborhood was over at Luise's place, drinking Hungarian liquor and talking too loudly. It's been a long time since we've hung out like that; we were all a bit like hermits last semester. Spring must be affecting us all. Last Saturday I ditched my work to go to the beach with Luise and Famke and Rotem and Shimmy, and it was a perfect day. On the way back we stopped at Abu Gosh for Hummus--apparently the best Hummus in Israel--and I even managed to finish my paper that night. Things are settling back into normalcy.
I've finished two of my papers from last semester, and have only two more to go. Second semester has begun, and I am determined to throw myself into my work--Hebrew especially. I am only taking Hebrew, Arabic, and two classes this semester, Modern Christian Spirituality and Christian Mysticism, so I'm hoping to have more time to study my languages. I have to pass the Hebrew exemption exam at the end of this semester, and my prospects are pretty gloomy. We'll see.
As far as non-academic stuff goes, Bernd has come into town for a month, which of course makes me very happy. Last night the whole neighborhood was over at Luise's place, drinking Hungarian liquor and talking too loudly. It's been a long time since we've hung out like that; we were all a bit like hermits last semester. Spring must be affecting us all. Last Saturday I ditched my work to go to the beach with Luise and Famke and Rotem and Shimmy, and it was a perfect day. On the way back we stopped at Abu Gosh for Hummus--apparently the best Hummus in Israel--and I even managed to finish my paper that night. Things are settling back into normalcy.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
In Cairo
I have tried over and over again to update this site here in Egypt, but this is the first Internet Cafe that has let me onto the page! I apologize to those of you out there (read: my parents) who have been worried and wondering whether I am dead or alive.
I am alive, feeling more and more so actually--I was pretty sick the first few days I was here, as a German Girl Who Shall Remain Nameless (Luise) gave me a cold to take with me to Egypt to remind me of her. I have managed, however, to have a fantastic time.
How to explain Egypt? Others have tried before, and done better than I possibly could. Parts of it remind me of India--the crowds, the constant horn-honking, the annoying vendors, the smells and colors, the hassle, the exotic nature of it all. But at the same time, it's much more accessible, much more modern in a way. So you have this fairly modern world set up against this ancient, incredible background, a crazy juxtaposition.
We rented horses to go and see the pyramids, and our guide rode us way out into the desert and through a hole in the fence to get in...the result being we paid no entry fees, except into his pocket, which I'm okay with really. We were trotting and cantering towards these great enormous structures that I've seen so often on books, and I was of course having one of my this is my life moments, only it was so cold and windy when the sun went behind the clouds that I actually managed to be in the present rather than removing myself to make my usual mental comments. We went inside the second pyramid, crouching down low all the way into the hot, airless interior, and I found myself frighteningly aware of how many thousands of tons of rock were layered above me, and suddenly trying to remember how often Egypt has earthquakes. Enia kindly remarked that if the pyramids have stood for 4500 years, they most likely were not going to collapse then, but I was not to be comforted. Unforgettable to go in, but a huge relief to get back out again.
After Cairo we took a night train down to Aswan, where we spent the day perusing the Nubian Museun, then drifting about on a Felluca on the Nile while the sun set. It was nice for a change of pace, especially since our next stop was Luxor (ancient Thebes), which has more sights than it is possible to see in weeks, let alone two days. We saw the amazing, enormous temple of Karnak, and the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, full of wall paintings that were still in vivid color, showing Ramses being accepted into the afterlife by Osiris, or the goddess Nut among the books of the day and night. It was way too much to take in, and I am full and thick and happy.
Now we're back in Cairo, and tomorrow it's back to Jerusalem. I'm excited to get back, am a bit homesick. Soon I will post a million pictures, I promise.
I am alive, feeling more and more so actually--I was pretty sick the first few days I was here, as a German Girl Who Shall Remain Nameless (Luise) gave me a cold to take with me to Egypt to remind me of her. I have managed, however, to have a fantastic time.
How to explain Egypt? Others have tried before, and done better than I possibly could. Parts of it remind me of India--the crowds, the constant horn-honking, the annoying vendors, the smells and colors, the hassle, the exotic nature of it all. But at the same time, it's much more accessible, much more modern in a way. So you have this fairly modern world set up against this ancient, incredible background, a crazy juxtaposition.
We rented horses to go and see the pyramids, and our guide rode us way out into the desert and through a hole in the fence to get in...the result being we paid no entry fees, except into his pocket, which I'm okay with really. We were trotting and cantering towards these great enormous structures that I've seen so often on books, and I was of course having one of my this is my life moments, only it was so cold and windy when the sun went behind the clouds that I actually managed to be in the present rather than removing myself to make my usual mental comments. We went inside the second pyramid, crouching down low all the way into the hot, airless interior, and I found myself frighteningly aware of how many thousands of tons of rock were layered above me, and suddenly trying to remember how often Egypt has earthquakes. Enia kindly remarked that if the pyramids have stood for 4500 years, they most likely were not going to collapse then, but I was not to be comforted. Unforgettable to go in, but a huge relief to get back out again.
After Cairo we took a night train down to Aswan, where we spent the day perusing the Nubian Museun, then drifting about on a Felluca on the Nile while the sun set. It was nice for a change of pace, especially since our next stop was Luxor (ancient Thebes), which has more sights than it is possible to see in weeks, let alone two days. We saw the amazing, enormous temple of Karnak, and the tombs in the Valley of the Kings, full of wall paintings that were still in vivid color, showing Ramses being accepted into the afterlife by Osiris, or the goddess Nut among the books of the day and night. It was way too much to take in, and I am full and thick and happy.
Now we're back in Cairo, and tomorrow it's back to Jerusalem. I'm excited to get back, am a bit homesick. Soon I will post a million pictures, I promise.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Update
Grandma e-mailed me just to find out if I'm still alive; apparently it's time for an update. Yes, I'm alive, still here, just on vacation. The scores are in: I passed my Hebrew exam, and managed an A in Arabic, so I am pleased. I would be resting easy if I didn't have four papers due, easier still if one of them weren't on a subject I don't understand at all. I keep thinking: this will all be over in a month. The papers will be in, and a new, fresh semester beginning. I'll do better this time. This is what I tell myself.
Friday, January 28, 2005
A little faith
The other night I was at a party, sitting around a huge glass table drinking wine and talking about the things you talk about at parties like that, when we started talking about religion. My friend Maya made some joke about me being a Jesus Freak, and without thinking, I blurted out "ex-Jesus Freak." The minute the words were out of my mouth, I felt the most horrible sense of shame. After all, these are my private, painful musings, not meant to be made into a public joke; after all, this is Jesus we are talking about, to whom my entire life was dedicated for so long; after all, I am still my mother's daughter.
So the question remains, what do I really think? Who is it that I am becoming, what leg does she have to stand on? My search seems much more frantic from the pages of this website; the truth is I am more than stalled. I wrestle constantly with converting to Judaism, even still, but mostly I manage to keep that urge quiet. As for Christianity, I try not even to think about it anymore. There are no answers that satisfy me. Instead I fill up my days with distractions, until some comment at some party jolts me back into the middle of whatever inner conflict it is that I am successfully ignoring most of the time.
But today is gorgeous and the sun is shining, and my only odd urge is to write. I want to grab a pen and a notebook and sit in the sun in the old city somewhere and make up some people who understand me, give somebody life--you know, be God for a little bit, make things right.
So the question remains, what do I really think? Who is it that I am becoming, what leg does she have to stand on? My search seems much more frantic from the pages of this website; the truth is I am more than stalled. I wrestle constantly with converting to Judaism, even still, but mostly I manage to keep that urge quiet. As for Christianity, I try not even to think about it anymore. There are no answers that satisfy me. Instead I fill up my days with distractions, until some comment at some party jolts me back into the middle of whatever inner conflict it is that I am successfully ignoring most of the time.
But today is gorgeous and the sun is shining, and my only odd urge is to write. I want to grab a pen and a notebook and sit in the sun in the old city somewhere and make up some people who understand me, give somebody life--you know, be God for a little bit, make things right.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
All's well that ends well
I am finally finished with the semester, and can exhale a little bit. As for my finals, I'm pretty sure I failed my Hebrew final and aced my Arabic final--so I guess I achieved some sort of balance. I now have four mini-papers to write, but I'm not planning on starting those for a week or two. Life is good.
I'd also like to say Happy Birthday to my little sister Sara, who turns 26 today. She's 26 and married with a real job, living a real life. What am I doing with myself???
I'd also like to say Happy Birthday to my little sister Sara, who turns 26 today. She's 26 and married with a real job, living a real life. What am I doing with myself???
Friday, January 21, 2005
Advice from my youth
Sometimes I have to remind myself of things. Rilke helps:
"If you have this love for insignificant things and seek, simply as one who serves, to win the confidence of what seems to be poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more conciliatory, not perhaps in understanding, which lags wandering behind, but in your innermost consciousness, wakefulness and knowing. You are so young, you have not even begun, and I would like to beg you to have patience with everything that is unsolved in your heart and to try to cherish the questions themselves, like closed rooms and like books written in a very strange tongue. Do not search now for the answers which cannot be given you because you could not live them. It is a matter of living everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, one distant day live right into the answer."
Last night I had a dream that I was sitting on the beach, and the tide started rising really quickly, and I had to scramble up the sand dunes, and even higher and higher, as the water kept rising and the waves kept getting stronger. There was nothing threatening about it--the waves were almost gentle--but they were eroding something, taking pieces of things away, and I couldn't stop to save any of it, just had to keep moving. I was grabbing onto things for leverage: trees, roots, heavy stones, and pulling myself up slowly slowly, but I was still wet, still aware that if I stopped moving I'd be swept away. So of course the waves are time, making loss out of everything, and the things I take hold of are these questions, that help me climb upwards but do nothing to stop the tide, and the sea itself may be mortality, or it may be the answer, because no matter how fast I scurried, I never thought for one moment that I was moving towards anything in particular, and I had the vague sensation that what I really wanted was behind me, that what I really wanted more than anything was to be swallowed up and carried off. And yet there I was, still scrambling and panting, grabbing onto what I could and watching precious things drift away. These are the things I dream about.
"If you have this love for insignificant things and seek, simply as one who serves, to win the confidence of what seems to be poor: then everything will become easier for you, more coherent and somehow more conciliatory, not perhaps in understanding, which lags wandering behind, but in your innermost consciousness, wakefulness and knowing. You are so young, you have not even begun, and I would like to beg you to have patience with everything that is unsolved in your heart and to try to cherish the questions themselves, like closed rooms and like books written in a very strange tongue. Do not search now for the answers which cannot be given you because you could not live them. It is a matter of living everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, one distant day live right into the answer."
Last night I had a dream that I was sitting on the beach, and the tide started rising really quickly, and I had to scramble up the sand dunes, and even higher and higher, as the water kept rising and the waves kept getting stronger. There was nothing threatening about it--the waves were almost gentle--but they were eroding something, taking pieces of things away, and I couldn't stop to save any of it, just had to keep moving. I was grabbing onto things for leverage: trees, roots, heavy stones, and pulling myself up slowly slowly, but I was still wet, still aware that if I stopped moving I'd be swept away. So of course the waves are time, making loss out of everything, and the things I take hold of are these questions, that help me climb upwards but do nothing to stop the tide, and the sea itself may be mortality, or it may be the answer, because no matter how fast I scurried, I never thought for one moment that I was moving towards anything in particular, and I had the vague sensation that what I really wanted was behind me, that what I really wanted more than anything was to be swallowed up and carried off. And yet there I was, still scrambling and panting, grabbing onto what I could and watching precious things drift away. These are the things I dream about.
Wednesday, January 19, 2005
I keep on keeping on
I erased my last post, as you can see...sometimes I forget that this isn't my own personal diary, that people actually read this, people who might possibly think that I'm crazy...I get a little carried away, you see. It's probably because I haven't written in my actual journal in so long, which is really strange for me. All my thoughts have gotten all jumbled up into a big impenetrable mass, which obviously makes it harder for me to make any sense when I try to sort them out (often to no avail).
I am okay. I will be okay, anyway. It's so weird how different this year is from last year. Perhaps I've stayed past my usual allotment of time to any given space--I already feel the urge to move, move, move...you know, keep things whole. The second year in a place is always hardest; that's when it begins, the little howling. It gets louder with time. Here it is, only January, and it's at a fever pitch.
I am okay. I will be okay, anyway. It's so weird how different this year is from last year. Perhaps I've stayed past my usual allotment of time to any given space--I already feel the urge to move, move, move...you know, keep things whole. The second year in a place is always hardest; that's when it begins, the little howling. It gets louder with time. Here it is, only January, and it's at a fever pitch.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Ruminations
I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Normally when I get this way I turn into a somewhat removed theorist--waxing hypotheses in a detached, pragmatic way. Love is such and such, to love is to dot dot dot. Now I have no theories, no definitions or philosophies or even concrete ideas. My mind has simply wrapped itself around a short refrain that repeats itself over and over in my head:
Risk it! Risk everything!
Risk it! Risk everything!
Sunday, December 12, 2004
A little stream of consciousness
I'm getting tired of writing about the things I'm doing here--the parties and the sightseeing, the classes and the papers, what have you. All these external things--even the extraordinary place where I live--all of these refuse to penetrate at the moment, and I'm left walking around inside my own head. Not walking. More like treading water.
I am not unhappy. I am not even panicky or anxious. I am just confused.
We only get one life, you see. We either use it to seek truth, or we give up and start to collect things. I want to be good, I want to be kind, I want to be pure of heart, but I don't know if I want to look for truth anymore. Suddenly it seems very, very silly, like investing in something that will never yield any actual result, that will never make any visible impact, that will merely serve as some sort of spiritual pacifier that calms me but doesn't nourish me, eases everything but changes nothing. I don't want to cling to something because it makes life more bearable or makes me feel like a part of something or gives me a sense of identity. I want to believe in something because it's true, not just for me but for everybody, and this, this I suspect may not exist at all.
I am not unhappy. I am not even panicky or anxious. I am just confused.
We only get one life, you see. We either use it to seek truth, or we give up and start to collect things. I want to be good, I want to be kind, I want to be pure of heart, but I don't know if I want to look for truth anymore. Suddenly it seems very, very silly, like investing in something that will never yield any actual result, that will never make any visible impact, that will merely serve as some sort of spiritual pacifier that calms me but doesn't nourish me, eases everything but changes nothing. I don't want to cling to something because it makes life more bearable or makes me feel like a part of something or gives me a sense of identity. I want to believe in something because it's true, not just for me but for everybody, and this, this I suspect may not exist at all.
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Hanukkah
This has been a rough week. I'm battling a shapeless little loneliness here, and it's tiring. I'm having another of those disconnected days--I want to plug myself in somewhere, lean on something for balance, only there's no place, really, for me to go.
Monday, December 06, 2004
It's been a rough week
I went to a party last Thursday night. It was fun, I suppose, but not terribly. Anyway, the point is, apparently someone stole my bank card right out of my purse that night. I had it in a small pocket--I'd left my wallet at home--along with some cash. The next day the cash was still there, but the card was gone. At first I figured that I must've taken it out and lost it or something, so I wasn't too worried. But then last night I checked out my account information online and there were $250 worth of charges that I didn't make. I spent the better part of the evening on the telephone to USbank cancelling the card. So I'll get a new one within a week or two, but meanwhile I have no access to cash. Blech. Who would steal a bank card from someone's purse at a party? Am unhappy about the whole affair.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
I am not really here right now
I've mostly been back in Cleveland the past few days since I heard that a friend's stepfather, who I've known for years, passed away. I've been in this kind of surreal stupor, trying not to think too much about what happened or worry about Sangeeta, trying to concentrate on my work and on my friends here, but I find myself dialing her number quite a bit and she's never home. I wonder if she would rather people not call for a while, if she would rather be left alone.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
No news is good news
I've been going through a bit of a clumsy spell. Yesterday I knocked over a chair in the cafeteria, and then later, as I was trying to sneak out of class early, I managed to spill the entire contents of my backpack onto the floor with a remarkable clatter. These things happen to me sometimes.
Am in the middle of midterms, three down and two to go. I have no idea how I did on the papers, but I think I did okay on the Arabic test, in spite of all my fears. Maybe I am learning something after all.
I haven't been up to that much lately. Went out to dinner the other night, had a few drinks with some friends last night, the usual passing of the days. But I feel satisfied and full, as if I've lived here a long time; my life has taken on an easy rhythm. I am happy, I guess.
Israel has also been pretty quiet. Kati wants me to write more about what's going on here, but the truth is I rarely know. I read somewhere that attacks on Israelis have gone down 70% since Arafat died, but that strikes me as an odd statistic. Everything else--moving along, hunkering down for winter, settling.
Am in the middle of midterms, three down and two to go. I have no idea how I did on the papers, but I think I did okay on the Arabic test, in spite of all my fears. Maybe I am learning something after all.
I haven't been up to that much lately. Went out to dinner the other night, had a few drinks with some friends last night, the usual passing of the days. But I feel satisfied and full, as if I've lived here a long time; my life has taken on an easy rhythm. I am happy, I guess.
Israel has also been pretty quiet. Kati wants me to write more about what's going on here, but the truth is I rarely know. I read somewhere that attacks on Israelis have gone down 70% since Arafat died, but that strikes me as an odd statistic. Everything else--moving along, hunkering down for winter, settling.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Thanksgiving
It's freezing in Jerusalem. It rained all weekend, and yet I still braved the streets for Thanksgiving dinner at my friend's house. There were three enormous tables set up in their living room, around which sat forty or fifty (mostly non-American) friends. They made everyone say something they were thankful for, but I and the rest of the cynics waited on the balcony until that part was over. It's not that I'm not thankful or anything, it's just that I knew maybe ten of the people there, and I'm not much for public speaking.
So we ate and made merry, and I endured the usual barrage of American jokes (we killed the Indians after Thanksgiving, we have no table manners, no real culture...you know the drill), but mostly it was a really good time. In the end, Luise and I ended up at Dave's in a really silly mood, and sat laughing and talking about nothing until 3:30 in the morning. A nice Thanksgiving, in spite of the homesickness that comes with the territory.
So we ate and made merry, and I endured the usual barrage of American jokes (we killed the Indians after Thanksgiving, we have no table manners, no real culture...you know the drill), but mostly it was a really good time. In the end, Luise and I ended up at Dave's in a really silly mood, and sat laughing and talking about nothing until 3:30 in the morning. A nice Thanksgiving, in spite of the homesickness that comes with the territory.
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
I am procrastinating
I am working on this instead of my mini-paper that's due tomorrow, which I have been avoiding all week. It's a critical review of (part of) Spinoza's Theologico-Political Treatise. This shouldn't be so difficult, but I'm at a loss as to how to begin. My solution: type. Anything. Thus here I am, hoping the very feel of keys beneath my fingertips will trigger some kind of reaction in my writing faculty.
Soon I leave to go into town with some girls for dinner. I don't go out to eat very often, unless you count the cafeterias at University, so I'm looking forward to food I don't have to prepare and/or clean up. I'm also looking forward to the same thing tomorrow night, when I go to my friend Dave's for Thanksgiving dinner, and don't need to cook anything at all. Apparently there are like forty people coming, much bigger than my little intimate Thanksgiving last year.
Anyway, suddenly I have an idea. So off to work I go.
Soon I leave to go into town with some girls for dinner. I don't go out to eat very often, unless you count the cafeterias at University, so I'm looking forward to food I don't have to prepare and/or clean up. I'm also looking forward to the same thing tomorrow night, when I go to my friend Dave's for Thanksgiving dinner, and don't need to cook anything at all. Apparently there are like forty people coming, much bigger than my little intimate Thanksgiving last year.
Anyway, suddenly I have an idea. So off to work I go.
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Week five
Went to several parties this weekend. At the first one, the police came three times before one o'clock. They always come, and they're always nice, but they pretty much broke up the party. I didn't mind so much though, as it had suddenly turned into one of those predatory parties where Luise and I were practically the only girls left in a sea of men. I felt like a little bunny, about to be pounced on.
The next day, Shimon, Luise's exiled ex-roomate, threw a little get-together at his new apartment, right smack next to the emergency room at the hospital. We ate sushi and drank banana and vodka shakes. It doesn't get much better than that.
Yesterday I did barely anything at all. It was shabbat, after all. I did manage to finish my Arabic and a little reading, and I made pasta for myself and Luise, who has taken to sleeping over every Saturday night.
The next day, Shimon, Luise's exiled ex-roomate, threw a little get-together at his new apartment, right smack next to the emergency room at the hospital. We ate sushi and drank banana and vodka shakes. It doesn't get much better than that.
Yesterday I did barely anything at all. It was shabbat, after all. I did manage to finish my Arabic and a little reading, and I made pasta for myself and Luise, who has taken to sleeping over every Saturday night.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
Essays
So I wrote the first of my mid-term essays and saved it to a disk to print out at school, and somehow the disk was all messed up and I lost all the corrections and the conclusion to the paper, which I (stupidly) forgot to save to my computer. It took me an hour and a half to write the entire essay, and it has taken me two days to reconstruct a single paragraph. I find this extremely annoying. I literally cannot remember how I ended it before, and cannot for the life of me pull it together now. Am incensed. (is that how you spell that?)
So now I have to finish it, as well as some critical review of some Spinoza article. Hooray. I feel really loaded down with work this semester. Arabic is 100 times more difficult than last year, and Hebrew moves so fast I can't keep up. I'm spinning all around! But overall, I am too busy to be depressed or anxious most of the time. I almost feel completely back to normal.
So now I have to finish it, as well as some critical review of some Spinoza article. Hooray. I feel really loaded down with work this semester. Arabic is 100 times more difficult than last year, and Hebrew moves so fast I can't keep up. I'm spinning all around! But overall, I am too busy to be depressed or anxious most of the time. I almost feel completely back to normal.
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Update
Last Thursday I went to my friend Danai's house in Abu Tor, East Jerusalem, to have the evening Ramadan meal with her family. Their home was really beautiful, and we ate until our sides hurt. Afterwards we sat in the living room and drank Arab coffee and talked about everything, with Arafat's funeral playing on the TV in the background. Only the women were left, Danai, her sister, and two other girls from Rothberg; the men left right after dinner.
Danai's sister read our futures in the coffee grounds left over in our cups, which was quite entertaining. Apparently I will very soon meet a very tall man, who will love me from the first moment that he sees me. (Why are they always tall in fortune-telling?) I will never have a lot of money, but I will never care. I will attain whatever I go after, but it will take hard work. All sorts of neat stuff like that. It was quite fun.
Danai's sister read our futures in the coffee grounds left over in our cups, which was quite entertaining. Apparently I will very soon meet a very tall man, who will love me from the first moment that he sees me. (Why are they always tall in fortune-telling?) I will never have a lot of money, but I will never care. I will attain whatever I go after, but it will take hard work. All sorts of neat stuff like that. It was quite fun.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Clarification
Due to the nature of some of the responses that I have received from my post a few days ago, I decided I needed to clarify a few things. At the time I was much too angry to form a coherent argument, so I instead resorted to satire, a tool that I find to be (generally) quite effective. However, it may not be so effective at the time because, unfortunately, there are so many people in the world right now who would whole-heartedly agree with the ridiculous stance I took to mock them.
So, a bit of an argument then. I suppose I should start with why we have laws. I plan on being simplistic and non-philosophical here, so excuse my lack of true investigation into the matter. We have laws to maintain order in society, to moderate and standardize behavior, to protect individuals from each other, and to determine right from wrong. Fine then.
That being said, there are two different types of law. There are laws that deal with matters of justice, and laws that deal with matters of morality. In America, a country founded on freedom of thought, opinion, and religion, basically the right to believe whatever one desires, we divide these laws: the state turns matters of justice into universal law, while matters of morality are (supposedly) left to the individual to decide--Christians follow their moral law, Jews follow theirs, Muslims, Atheists, etc. All are free to decide what is right and what is wrong.
What then separates a Universal Law of Justice, which is regulated by the state, and an Individual Law of Morality, regulated by one's religion, creed, or conscience? Precisely this: a universal just law is one that draws the line between the rights of the individual and the rights of those he lives with. Once his right impedes on the rights of others, it is no longer his right. Thus, it is legal to hate people; it is illegal to hurt them, It is legal to have sex with whomever you choose, whether married or not, it is not legal to rape or sexually abuse someone. It is legal to buy pornography, it is not legal to peep into other people's windows. I could go on and on. I will stay away from the "grayer" areas, prostitution, drug use, etc, as they can be argued from either side.
Homosexuality, however, cannot. There is nothing gray about the right of a man or a woman to be gay, as it obviously does not impede on the rights of anyone else. It hurts no one, disrupts nothing in society, and is simply not a matter of justice.
It can, of course, be argued by some that it is a violation of morality, but we have already shown that morality is not to be decided by the state. It seems to me that Christians in the USA, now comfortably accustomed to being in the majority, have forgotten how precarious this situation can be in history. I live in Jerusalem, which over the course of thousands of years has been through its share of occupiers, all of them exercising the right to legislate their own idea of morality, and all of them indifferent to the suffering it caused to those who disagreed with them. Christians in America are not bothered by the idea of legislating morality because, at the moment, they are safe in the knowledge that it will be their morality, but they forget that this may not always be the case.
Once you set such a dangerous precedent, you are not far off from destroying the very ideals our country was founded on; in fact you are already beginning to destroy them. How is it that Christians forget that in certain countries, Christianity itself is "immoral," and that its followers must practice their faith illegally and in secret? Surely we would call this law an unjust law, as it imposes one group's morality onto another and restricts freedom. Thus, while Universal Law is truly just law, as it protects rights (by restricting freedoms, yes, but only those freedoms which could harm another), Moral Law, when it no longer is left up to the individual, is unjust.
So how can one possibly argue that the right to marry should be restricted to those whose moral code calls marriage a union between a man and a woman? Certainly two gay men in love, who desire to make a life-long commitment to each other, should have the right to do so, and have it recognized by the state that claims its citizens have the right to decide their own morality? I have heard people worry that it would destroy the "sanctity of marriage." Last I checked, the "sanctity of marriage" was not a person, and therefore doesn't fall under the protection of universal law. We are free to destroy it at will, as we do every day with our (legal, I remind you) divorces, illicit affairs, and many other things. I am not arguing whether these things are right or wrong; I believe I have pointed out that this has no bearing on the argument whatsoever. I am merely pointing out that "marriage" as most Christians view it, is being violated every day, with the protection of the law. But as long as it is heterosexuals violating marriage as depicted by the Christian Bible, we will tolerate it. It is only when homosexuals expect the state (THE STATE, mind you, not the church, which I believe does have the right to prohibit gay marriage if it sees that as morally sound) to extend to them the right to marry that Christians start weeping and gnashing their teeth. They wail and cry--just call it something else, just don't call it marriage, how can you call it marriage?--and their attachment to semantics, to a name, which is not holy at all (it is the act of marriage, I believe, that is holy--it must be, as Adam and Eve are never said to be "married" and somehow I doubt that Christians hold their union to be suspect), blinds them to the suffering they are causing those who disagree with them. They think they are doing God a favor by "protecting" his morality, when in fact they are hurting him by hurting and alienating those he loves, which includes homosexuals.
So, a bit of an argument then. I suppose I should start with why we have laws. I plan on being simplistic and non-philosophical here, so excuse my lack of true investigation into the matter. We have laws to maintain order in society, to moderate and standardize behavior, to protect individuals from each other, and to determine right from wrong. Fine then.
That being said, there are two different types of law. There are laws that deal with matters of justice, and laws that deal with matters of morality. In America, a country founded on freedom of thought, opinion, and religion, basically the right to believe whatever one desires, we divide these laws: the state turns matters of justice into universal law, while matters of morality are (supposedly) left to the individual to decide--Christians follow their moral law, Jews follow theirs, Muslims, Atheists, etc. All are free to decide what is right and what is wrong.
What then separates a Universal Law of Justice, which is regulated by the state, and an Individual Law of Morality, regulated by one's religion, creed, or conscience? Precisely this: a universal just law is one that draws the line between the rights of the individual and the rights of those he lives with. Once his right impedes on the rights of others, it is no longer his right. Thus, it is legal to hate people; it is illegal to hurt them, It is legal to have sex with whomever you choose, whether married or not, it is not legal to rape or sexually abuse someone. It is legal to buy pornography, it is not legal to peep into other people's windows. I could go on and on. I will stay away from the "grayer" areas, prostitution, drug use, etc, as they can be argued from either side.
Homosexuality, however, cannot. There is nothing gray about the right of a man or a woman to be gay, as it obviously does not impede on the rights of anyone else. It hurts no one, disrupts nothing in society, and is simply not a matter of justice.
It can, of course, be argued by some that it is a violation of morality, but we have already shown that morality is not to be decided by the state. It seems to me that Christians in the USA, now comfortably accustomed to being in the majority, have forgotten how precarious this situation can be in history. I live in Jerusalem, which over the course of thousands of years has been through its share of occupiers, all of them exercising the right to legislate their own idea of morality, and all of them indifferent to the suffering it caused to those who disagreed with them. Christians in America are not bothered by the idea of legislating morality because, at the moment, they are safe in the knowledge that it will be their morality, but they forget that this may not always be the case.
Once you set such a dangerous precedent, you are not far off from destroying the very ideals our country was founded on; in fact you are already beginning to destroy them. How is it that Christians forget that in certain countries, Christianity itself is "immoral," and that its followers must practice their faith illegally and in secret? Surely we would call this law an unjust law, as it imposes one group's morality onto another and restricts freedom. Thus, while Universal Law is truly just law, as it protects rights (by restricting freedoms, yes, but only those freedoms which could harm another), Moral Law, when it no longer is left up to the individual, is unjust.
So how can one possibly argue that the right to marry should be restricted to those whose moral code calls marriage a union between a man and a woman? Certainly two gay men in love, who desire to make a life-long commitment to each other, should have the right to do so, and have it recognized by the state that claims its citizens have the right to decide their own morality? I have heard people worry that it would destroy the "sanctity of marriage." Last I checked, the "sanctity of marriage" was not a person, and therefore doesn't fall under the protection of universal law. We are free to destroy it at will, as we do every day with our (legal, I remind you) divorces, illicit affairs, and many other things. I am not arguing whether these things are right or wrong; I believe I have pointed out that this has no bearing on the argument whatsoever. I am merely pointing out that "marriage" as most Christians view it, is being violated every day, with the protection of the law. But as long as it is heterosexuals violating marriage as depicted by the Christian Bible, we will tolerate it. It is only when homosexuals expect the state (THE STATE, mind you, not the church, which I believe does have the right to prohibit gay marriage if it sees that as morally sound) to extend to them the right to marry that Christians start weeping and gnashing their teeth. They wail and cry--just call it something else, just don't call it marriage, how can you call it marriage?--and their attachment to semantics, to a name, which is not holy at all (it is the act of marriage, I believe, that is holy--it must be, as Adam and Eve are never said to be "married" and somehow I doubt that Christians hold their union to be suspect), blinds them to the suffering they are causing those who disagree with them. They think they are doing God a favor by "protecting" his morality, when in fact they are hurting him by hurting and alienating those he loves, which includes homosexuals.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
A little hopeless
I finally bought my plane ticket home for Christmas. It was obscenely expensive. But I know it will be worth it. I could use a little connection with my hometown, as usual.
I feel as if my state of mind is constantly balanced on this precarious little peak, arms outstretched, willing itself to maintain some sort of equillibrium. This balancing is difficult and time-consuming, and often fails, at which point I suddenly find myself plunging into a state of semi-despair, fighting off the most ridiculous sense of hopelessness.
I have the most extreme emotional reactions to the most mundane of everyday events. The other day I was the last to arrive to an over-crowded class, and the only seat that was left was all alone in the corner, and I was suddenly overcome with this enormous feeling of isolation. I had to leave the class, walk around a little bit, remind myself of things. Then yesterday I got in an argument with a taxi driver about the fare, and it took me two hours to get over the sense of having fallen from a great distance. It is so strange, being so tightly coiled all the time. I want to stretch myself out, relax, but I can't.
It makes me think that I will never be able to be completely happy in the life that I've chosen. I am twenty-seven, single, living in a strange culture; most of my friends are transitory; most everything is transitory. I need to be living in some small town, where I know everybody, where they all know me, where I can have a nice routine, a couple kids, and a house with a front porch. I need to put down feet to feel balanced. Instead I'm running all over the place, collecting degrees, experiences, and photographs, in a constant state of near-panic.
This is probably better. This life.
I feel as if my state of mind is constantly balanced on this precarious little peak, arms outstretched, willing itself to maintain some sort of equillibrium. This balancing is difficult and time-consuming, and often fails, at which point I suddenly find myself plunging into a state of semi-despair, fighting off the most ridiculous sense of hopelessness.
I have the most extreme emotional reactions to the most mundane of everyday events. The other day I was the last to arrive to an over-crowded class, and the only seat that was left was all alone in the corner, and I was suddenly overcome with this enormous feeling of isolation. I had to leave the class, walk around a little bit, remind myself of things. Then yesterday I got in an argument with a taxi driver about the fare, and it took me two hours to get over the sense of having fallen from a great distance. It is so strange, being so tightly coiled all the time. I want to stretch myself out, relax, but I can't.
It makes me think that I will never be able to be completely happy in the life that I've chosen. I am twenty-seven, single, living in a strange culture; most of my friends are transitory; most everything is transitory. I need to be living in some small town, where I know everybody, where they all know me, where I can have a nice routine, a couple kids, and a house with a front porch. I need to put down feet to feel balanced. Instead I'm running all over the place, collecting degrees, experiences, and photographs, in a constant state of near-panic.
This is probably better. This life.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Those gays
I am so proud of my country right now. Finally we are taking a stand for what is decent, Christian, and American. It's bad enough that the gays are actually allowed to remain in God's chosen nation, now they insist on having the same rights as the rest of us--the God-fearing majority. I am appalled by this. Clearly it is the result of liberal-minded history teachers telling our children that America was founded on religious freedom, rather then telling them the truth--America was founded on the freedom to be a Christian. We fled that sinful England to make a haven for the moral majority, and look where we are now. Look what's happening to our values, our foundation, our very identity!
Thus, with the overwhelming passing of Issue One in Ohio and several other states, I have finally begun to see a glimmer of hope. Hope that one day America will be the country that our parents remember. Hope that one day my children will be able to live in a country of innocence and purity, where marriage is sacrosanct and the gays know their place. But folks, we cannot stop here. If we really want to clean up this country for Jesus, then I submit that we make several more amendments to the constitution--(remember the constitution? protecting the rights of Christians to live in a holy nation, ruled by a Christian? how quickly we forget). So here is my rather modest proposal:
Other immoral acts that should be made illegal:
Adultery: The gays like to point out how very few and how very ambiguous are the verses against homosexuality in the Bible. Well, this certainly cannot be said for adultery, a terrible sin that is constantly mentioned in the Good Book--both Old and New Testaments. God hates the adulterer as much as he hates the gays--so how can we live in a country that condones this behaviour by allowing it to be legal? How can this not be prosecutable by law? I submit policemen to work at every seedy hotel, every casino, office place, bar and nightclub, every fleshpot and sin-ridden place that still exists in America, waiting to catch the adulterer when he strikes, waiting to throw him into jail where he belongs.
Pre-marital sex: Fornication is rampant in this country. Nobody knows how it happened, or why it's so "accepted," but I think I do. Because it's legal. We look to our laws to tell us what is and isn't morally acceptable, and here we have no law preventing--nay, protecting--our kids from committing an inexcusable act.
Drunkenness: Now, I'm not old-fashioned. We all know prohibition was a mistake. Even Jesus drank wine! The point is not to make alcohol illegal, but to make drinking in excess illegal. Saint Paul makes it clear what a sin it is to be drunk, makes it clear that it leads to debauchery, whatever that is. So let the people have their wine, just make sure there's a limit. A moral society must have limits, or sin and the devil will undermine and ruin us.
Reading religious books that aren't the Bible: How can we let our children be exposed to other faiths, faiths that we know to be pagan and godless? At the moment, you can walk into any bookstore and find a copy of the Koran, the Satanic Bible, whatever those Buddhists read--all sorts of nefarious and anti-Christian writings--out in the open for anyone to take home and read, out in the open just waiting to lead Americans astray. I propose a ban on all such anti-God books. I also find certain other books suspect--The Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, anything written by a Jew, basically any fiction that contains objectionable references, which is most fiction written before 1935 and after 1959, as well as a lot of the stuff actually written between those years. In fact, as it is hard to judge, all fiction must be considered a threat. As well as any supposed "non"-fiction that includes the evolutionary theory, references to the big bang, reproduction, or a non-geo-centric view of the universe, as well as anything containing discussions of any religion other than the American Religion.
Television: This barely needs an explanation at all.
Dancing: While not specifically mentioned in the Bible as a sin, I go along with the radical Christian unversities that prohibit this exceptionally dangerous act. Maybe it's not a sin, per se, but we all know what it leads to. Let's not kid ourselves. Again I say: outlaw the deviant act.
Well, there are many, many more that I could list--and plan to!--but unfortunately I have to go do some housework, as I am a Christian woman who knows where her place is. Let that be a lesson to the anti-American masses of women who think it's "okay" to be in the workplace while their children raise themselves. Shame on you! Perhaps one day America will return to its better, purer roots and keep us out of the working world and the ballot box, and back in the kitchen where God intended us to be!
Thus, with the overwhelming passing of Issue One in Ohio and several other states, I have finally begun to see a glimmer of hope. Hope that one day America will be the country that our parents remember. Hope that one day my children will be able to live in a country of innocence and purity, where marriage is sacrosanct and the gays know their place. But folks, we cannot stop here. If we really want to clean up this country for Jesus, then I submit that we make several more amendments to the constitution--(remember the constitution? protecting the rights of Christians to live in a holy nation, ruled by a Christian? how quickly we forget). So here is my rather modest proposal:
Other immoral acts that should be made illegal:
Adultery: The gays like to point out how very few and how very ambiguous are the verses against homosexuality in the Bible. Well, this certainly cannot be said for adultery, a terrible sin that is constantly mentioned in the Good Book--both Old and New Testaments. God hates the adulterer as much as he hates the gays--so how can we live in a country that condones this behaviour by allowing it to be legal? How can this not be prosecutable by law? I submit policemen to work at every seedy hotel, every casino, office place, bar and nightclub, every fleshpot and sin-ridden place that still exists in America, waiting to catch the adulterer when he strikes, waiting to throw him into jail where he belongs.
Pre-marital sex: Fornication is rampant in this country. Nobody knows how it happened, or why it's so "accepted," but I think I do. Because it's legal. We look to our laws to tell us what is and isn't morally acceptable, and here we have no law preventing--nay, protecting--our kids from committing an inexcusable act.
Drunkenness: Now, I'm not old-fashioned. We all know prohibition was a mistake. Even Jesus drank wine! The point is not to make alcohol illegal, but to make drinking in excess illegal. Saint Paul makes it clear what a sin it is to be drunk, makes it clear that it leads to debauchery, whatever that is. So let the people have their wine, just make sure there's a limit. A moral society must have limits, or sin and the devil will undermine and ruin us.
Reading religious books that aren't the Bible: How can we let our children be exposed to other faiths, faiths that we know to be pagan and godless? At the moment, you can walk into any bookstore and find a copy of the Koran, the Satanic Bible, whatever those Buddhists read--all sorts of nefarious and anti-Christian writings--out in the open for anyone to take home and read, out in the open just waiting to lead Americans astray. I propose a ban on all such anti-God books. I also find certain other books suspect--The Catcher in the Rye, To Kill a Mockingbird, Huckleberry Finn, anything written by a Jew, basically any fiction that contains objectionable references, which is most fiction written before 1935 and after 1959, as well as a lot of the stuff actually written between those years. In fact, as it is hard to judge, all fiction must be considered a threat. As well as any supposed "non"-fiction that includes the evolutionary theory, references to the big bang, reproduction, or a non-geo-centric view of the universe, as well as anything containing discussions of any religion other than the American Religion.
Television: This barely needs an explanation at all.
Dancing: While not specifically mentioned in the Bible as a sin, I go along with the radical Christian unversities that prohibit this exceptionally dangerous act. Maybe it's not a sin, per se, but we all know what it leads to. Let's not kid ourselves. Again I say: outlaw the deviant act.
Well, there are many, many more that I could list--and plan to!--but unfortunately I have to go do some housework, as I am a Christian woman who knows where her place is. Let that be a lesson to the anti-American masses of women who think it's "okay" to be in the workplace while their children raise themselves. Shame on you! Perhaps one day America will return to its better, purer roots and keep us out of the working world and the ballot box, and back in the kitchen where God intended us to be!
Monday, November 01, 2004
Halloween
Had a Halloween party the other day, complete with pumpkins (construction paper), s'mores (on the gas stove), and hot spiked apple cider (apple "drink"). It was kind of hastily planned, but it turned out okay. I get this hostess-syndrome, and it's hard for me to enjoy my own parties--I'm running around all nervous trying to make sure people are having fun, eating, drinking, still like me. Stuff like that.
Not much else to share at the moment. I'm trying to get a plane ticket home, and it's awful. It's much more expensive then I'd anticipated, and the dates are filling up fast. Ah well. It'll work itself out, right?
Not much else to share at the moment. I'm trying to get a plane ticket home, and it's awful. It's much more expensive then I'd anticipated, and the dates are filling up fast. Ah well. It'll work itself out, right?
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Adds and drops
It's Wednesday already. The year has at last begun its crazy spinning, and I am left feeling like suddenly there is no time left for anything. A very different feeling from the past few weeks, but a welcome one.
I have decided at last which classes I am going to take this semester. The official list: Islamic and Jewish Philosophy in the Middle Ages; Issues in the Rise of the Islamic World; Magic, Science and Religion in the World of Late Antiquity; and the Hebrew Bible in its Near Eastern Historical Context (or something like that); along with Hebrew, Arabic, and hopefully German. Hooray! My cup runneth over.
Tonight a bunch of people are coming over for sushi. Tammy is making it, and she, as usual, has gone all out. I am greatly anticipating the final result of her efforts.
If my language on this blog becomes--shall we say--slightly academic sounding, as in the previous sentence, blame it on the one hundred pages of long-winded scholarly articles I read every day. I am starting to think in that style. I am not amused by this at all.
I have decided at last which classes I am going to take this semester. The official list: Islamic and Jewish Philosophy in the Middle Ages; Issues in the Rise of the Islamic World; Magic, Science and Religion in the World of Late Antiquity; and the Hebrew Bible in its Near Eastern Historical Context (or something like that); along with Hebrew, Arabic, and hopefully German. Hooray! My cup runneth over.
Tonight a bunch of people are coming over for sushi. Tammy is making it, and she, as usual, has gone all out. I am greatly anticipating the final result of her efforts.
If my language on this blog becomes--shall we say--slightly academic sounding, as in the previous sentence, blame it on the one hundred pages of long-winded scholarly articles I read every day. I am starting to think in that style. I am not amused by this at all.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Carrying on
I feel better today. It's odd to suffer from nameless anxiety after a year of relative calm. Not even relative calm: complete and utter normalcy. I suppose the way I felt last year is the way that normal people feel all the time. When my European friends hear that I was on Paxil, normally they smile, roll their eyes, and say something like "You Americans." And I guess that the steady rise of prescription medication is an American trend. Maybe--no, probably--we medicate ourselves way too much, treating the symptoms instead of the problem. The problem with most depressed Americans, in my opinion: work that means nothing to them, isolation, loneliness, lack of purpose and direction, lack of exercise, and overall boredom. To combat this, instead of changing jobs, joining a gym, and doing whatever it takes to end the feeling of isolation, they take an anti-depressant. I'm sure this happens a lot.
But here is where my problem lies: I am working at something that I love, that fascinates me. I have friends who care about me, (mostly) clear and defined goals, and a (decent) sense of purpose. I am happy. The anxiety that I feel never comes from an actual situation, from something concrete. The hopelessness, the sadness--none of it comes attached with a solution, a cure, or even a reason.
Luckily, it's not that severe. It does get worse in times of high stress, but mostly it's how I described it last night: a constant, dull sort of tug on my subconscious, a feeling that something is not quite right. A bit of obsessive-compulsion helps keep it at bay: when my house is clean, my studies in order, and the dishes done, the tug is less. When everything's a mess, when things go wrong, when I'm running late, the tug gets stronger. And when things in my life are complicated or difficult, the tug becomes an out and out tug-of-war between my rational mind, which understands that this is chemical, crazy, untrue, and my irrational feelings, which tell me that something is wrong, awful, about to be lost forever.
In the past I learned certain ways of controlling this. And when it was so bad that I couldn't control it, I just kind of held on until it passed. And last year, right before I left for Israel, when it was the worst it's ever been and I couldn't eat or sleep or even stop shaking, I finally decided to try Paxil. I've known a lot of people who tried it with no effect, or who went through some really awful side effects, but I responded really well almost right away. I responded so well, in fact, that I convinced myself that it must have been the placebo effect, and went off the drug. Two weeks later I was an absolute mess. So back on I went.
And now, over the summer, I decided to go off it. My life has stabilized, the stress factors are gone, and I was ready to go back to my old methods of controlling and living with my own little insanity. And I'm fine. Most of the time I am fine. But during those weird evenings--when I wake up at six in the morning with my heart pounding and my breath coming in hysterical sips and I am gripped by a pointless panic about nothing at all--on those evenings I wonder if it might not be so bad to be on a drug for the rest of my life.
But those evenings are few and far between, and meanwhile the fact that I feel creative and even crazy again is really comforting to me. So off it I will stay.
There's my explanation for last nights whimperings.
But here is where my problem lies: I am working at something that I love, that fascinates me. I have friends who care about me, (mostly) clear and defined goals, and a (decent) sense of purpose. I am happy. The anxiety that I feel never comes from an actual situation, from something concrete. The hopelessness, the sadness--none of it comes attached with a solution, a cure, or even a reason.
Luckily, it's not that severe. It does get worse in times of high stress, but mostly it's how I described it last night: a constant, dull sort of tug on my subconscious, a feeling that something is not quite right. A bit of obsessive-compulsion helps keep it at bay: when my house is clean, my studies in order, and the dishes done, the tug is less. When everything's a mess, when things go wrong, when I'm running late, the tug gets stronger. And when things in my life are complicated or difficult, the tug becomes an out and out tug-of-war between my rational mind, which understands that this is chemical, crazy, untrue, and my irrational feelings, which tell me that something is wrong, awful, about to be lost forever.
In the past I learned certain ways of controlling this. And when it was so bad that I couldn't control it, I just kind of held on until it passed. And last year, right before I left for Israel, when it was the worst it's ever been and I couldn't eat or sleep or even stop shaking, I finally decided to try Paxil. I've known a lot of people who tried it with no effect, or who went through some really awful side effects, but I responded really well almost right away. I responded so well, in fact, that I convinced myself that it must have been the placebo effect, and went off the drug. Two weeks later I was an absolute mess. So back on I went.
And now, over the summer, I decided to go off it. My life has stabilized, the stress factors are gone, and I was ready to go back to my old methods of controlling and living with my own little insanity. And I'm fine. Most of the time I am fine. But during those weird evenings--when I wake up at six in the morning with my heart pounding and my breath coming in hysterical sips and I am gripped by a pointless panic about nothing at all--on those evenings I wonder if it might not be so bad to be on a drug for the rest of my life.
But those evenings are few and far between, and meanwhile the fact that I feel creative and even crazy again is really comforting to me. So off it I will stay.
There's my explanation for last nights whimperings.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Perfect
First day of classes. But never mind. It's all a blur to me, feeling now so acutely that odd sense of panic I used to be so accustomed to. It's just a small thing. A pea beneath a hundred mattresses kind of thing. But there nonetheless. It's like the smallest, barely detectable layer right underneath my skin: it says nothing but negative words--loss, wrong, never. I don't know what I feel, except that I feel alone again. This is not something I entirely reject. Being alone is an amazing opportunity for growth. It's just that I was hoping my days of being alone were coming to an end, and yet it seems that God is intent on wringing me dry forever.
Whatever it takes to need him alone, I suppose. Only: am I this strong that I need this kind of desperation?
Whatever it takes to need him alone, I suppose. Only: am I this strong that I need this kind of desperation?
Monday, October 11, 2004
Psyche
So today is one of those days. I find myself, in my loneliness, searching for things to fill up the hours between sleep and sleep: surf the net--one hour; go to the library--three hours; study hebrew and arabic--two hours; watch tv--two hours; read "the story of art"--two hours. That still leaves me with six unused hours. I have options; I can do the touristy thing, go hang out with Gosia, take a walk. But loneliness is a paralysis for me, so I do nothing.
I spent one of these six unused hours talking to Jef, which was, of course, wonderful. He did his best to pull me from my stupor, and meanwhile I nagged him with questions he can't answer. Will all my dreams come true? Will I be happy? Will I die alone? Will I get to have children? He was amused/frustrated/...Jef. I miss him a lot. Difficult to write too much on a website that I know he reads; suffice to say: talking to him made me happy, for a little while.
Ksenia gets home tomorrow, Luise on Thursday, Tammy on Saturday, then school starts on Sunday. So much outside stimulation in rapid succession (is that spelled right?) is bound to liven me up. I should end up with less than one unused hour a day!
I spent one of these six unused hours talking to Jef, which was, of course, wonderful. He did his best to pull me from my stupor, and meanwhile I nagged him with questions he can't answer. Will all my dreams come true? Will I be happy? Will I die alone? Will I get to have children? He was amused/frustrated/...Jef. I miss him a lot. Difficult to write too much on a website that I know he reads; suffice to say: talking to him made me happy, for a little while.
Ksenia gets home tomorrow, Luise on Thursday, Tammy on Saturday, then school starts on Sunday. So much outside stimulation in rapid succession (is that spelled right?) is bound to liven me up. I should end up with less than one unused hour a day!
Monday, October 04, 2004
I am safe and sound
I came back to Jerusalem last night in a terrifyingly crowded bus. I can definitely tell that I'm no longer taking Paxil, as I was panic-stricken the whole way. The bus seemed to stop every few yards to pick up more people, and while normal Israelis slept or listened to their walkmans, I stared at every face that entered, positive that a suicide bomber was going to take advantage of so many Israelis packed like sardines into one tiny space and blow us all to hell. I miss medication sometimes.
Well, back to my travels. The day after I went to Akko, Dror and his family, who were all on vacation, took me sightseeing around the area. We stopped at a village called Paki'in, or something like that, where Christians, Jews, Muslims, and Druze all live together in relative harmony. We paid a visit to a friend of the family, a wonderfully friendly Druze man who insisted on feeding us his wife's stuffed grape leaves and Kube, salads and potatos, and numerous other treats. After that we went to see an old Crusader fortress that had been rebuilt by the Ottomans--a recurring theme in the North--from the top of which we could see all the way to Haifa. Finally we stopped at what Dror claimed to be the best sweet shop in Israel--nay, the world--where we ate something called ktufa(?), a middle eastern pastry covered with syrup and pistachio nuts. It was extremely yummy.
That night, we joined a bunch of neighbors from the village and ate outside (near the sukkah, but not in it, as it was too small--but that counts, doesn't it?) and made fresh pita on the fire, bedouin style. By this time I noticed a dramatic improvement in my Hebrew, as I hadn't spoken English in two days, and I got along quite nicely in the conversation. Slowly, slowly. Anyway, it was a beautiful night. One with just the right amount of magic.
Well, back to my travels. The day after I went to Akko, Dror and his family, who were all on vacation, took me sightseeing around the area. We stopped at a village called Paki'in, or something like that, where Christians, Jews, Muslims, and Druze all live together in relative harmony. We paid a visit to a friend of the family, a wonderfully friendly Druze man who insisted on feeding us his wife's stuffed grape leaves and Kube, salads and potatos, and numerous other treats. After that we went to see an old Crusader fortress that had been rebuilt by the Ottomans--a recurring theme in the North--from the top of which we could see all the way to Haifa. Finally we stopped at what Dror claimed to be the best sweet shop in Israel--nay, the world--where we ate something called ktufa(?), a middle eastern pastry covered with syrup and pistachio nuts. It was extremely yummy.
That night, we joined a bunch of neighbors from the village and ate outside (near the sukkah, but not in it, as it was too small--but that counts, doesn't it?) and made fresh pita on the fire, bedouin style. By this time I noticed a dramatic improvement in my Hebrew, as I hadn't spoken English in two days, and I got along quite nicely in the conversation. Slowly, slowly. Anyway, it was a beautiful night. One with just the right amount of magic.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Tel Aviv
I'm back in Tel Aviv with Tammy's family, getting ready to head out to the beach. I'm itching to get back to Jerusalem, but there's still a week and a half before school starts, so I might as well take advantage of it and travel some more.
My weekend up North was wonderful. I stayed with a family who I contacted through the hospitality club, an organization that I have come to love. Basically, it's a community of travelers who open up their homes to each other. So I e-mailed this guy, and asked him if I could stay there, and stay there I did--for three days. His name was Dror, 26, and I stayed in his parents house with his family. They lived out of the way in a lovely little village, so every day he drove me to the nearest city, where I could pick up a bus to whatever sight I planned to see that day.
The first day I went to Akko, an ancient port town built during the Crusades, and rebuilt and beautified during the Ottoman period. I toured through the old Turkish Bath-house, the ancient fortress, and several Khans, or city squares, built by the Turks. I walked along the city walls and ate some excellent hommous. There was a festival set to begin the next day, so the city was already buzzing. I took many pictures, then headed back to Dror's house for one of the best dinners I've had yet in Israel.
Time to go sit on the beach, so more tomorrow? Okay.
My weekend up North was wonderful. I stayed with a family who I contacted through the hospitality club, an organization that I have come to love. Basically, it's a community of travelers who open up their homes to each other. So I e-mailed this guy, and asked him if I could stay there, and stay there I did--for three days. His name was Dror, 26, and I stayed in his parents house with his family. They lived out of the way in a lovely little village, so every day he drove me to the nearest city, where I could pick up a bus to whatever sight I planned to see that day.
The first day I went to Akko, an ancient port town built during the Crusades, and rebuilt and beautified during the Ottoman period. I toured through the old Turkish Bath-house, the ancient fortress, and several Khans, or city squares, built by the Turks. I walked along the city walls and ate some excellent hommous. There was a festival set to begin the next day, so the city was already buzzing. I took many pictures, then headed back to Dror's house for one of the best dinners I've had yet in Israel.
Time to go sit on the beach, so more tomorrow? Okay.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
List-making is free
I'm beginning to sink into that disconnected, fuzzy stage in which I start to lose sight of myself. This happens when there is little to distract me from The Questions. I don't hate The Questions all that much, in fact I try to foster them whenever I manage to go a long time without asking them. It's what they stir up that I can't handle. Following very quickly on the heels of The Questions comes, almost imperceptibly at first, that odd sense of loss. It's like the floating light inside my eyelid when I close my eyes. I can see it out of the corner of my eye, but as soon as I try to look at it directly, it disappears. If I could only put my finger on it, give it a little shape, then maybe I could dissect it and make it go away. But I never can.
Instead, I make lists. I find this very comforting, in an admittedly obsessive compulsive way. If I make enough lists, maybe I'll stumble upon the cause of my nostalgia.
List #1: Things I Should Be Doing That I Am Not Doing
writing in my journal (weblogs not included)
writing anything at all
improv
filling out my application to cambridge
keeping in touch
learning hebrew
reading something other than formula thrillers
calling my professor's sister who lives in jerusalem (he asked me to)
research for my islamic mysticism paper
um...getting out of my apartment
I suppose that about covers it. I feel better already--that's not so long! Now that I've collected it into a neat little list, I barely feel the need to take any action at all.
Last night I had a nightmare that I was on a sinking ship. I was not upset about this at all. In fact I went on a swimming race with someone else from the ship, a guy who was immensely concerned with my welfare. He was faster than me. Maybe he saved my life. Anyway, suddenly I was walking on the sinking hull of this sinking ship, wading through the ankle-deep water. I was talking to Brett. I was trying to convince him to get off the ship, and he was angry at me. I was asking him questions about things I couldn't recall from our relationship. I had an image of him gently taking care of baby birds that I couldn't place in my memory. We argued.
In my dreams he is always so wise, so strong, so much like I remember him. I have attached to him a personality that doesn't exist, that never did. I even know when I did it--back in college when Paul and I broke up and I was heartbroken. I conjured up this new and improved Brett--a safe image since I could never imagine myself being with him--and this idealized image, this edited memory, helped me get over Paul. I never thought it would be this dangerous, never realized that once the little jury in my brain is convinced, it will not be unconvinced of guilt or innocence. As far as my subconscious is concerned, perfection is this man I've created, and he has Brett's face.
So I suppose he's back in my dreams again because of Jef. Breaking up with him was by far the most traumatic breakup I've ever been through. Who better to help me get over it then my own personal hero, invented and given life by me? Only it doesn't work this time, because there's no feet to put beneath the fantasy. The real Brett is married, lesser, bloodless. I know who he is, and he doesn't measure up to the jury's verdict. Which puts me in an odd predicament: an image in my dreams that is strong enough to confuse and hurt me, but too weak to help and heal me as it did before.
Who's sinking on that ship, him or me?
Instead, I make lists. I find this very comforting, in an admittedly obsessive compulsive way. If I make enough lists, maybe I'll stumble upon the cause of my nostalgia.
List #1: Things I Should Be Doing That I Am Not Doing
writing in my journal (weblogs not included)
writing anything at all
improv
filling out my application to cambridge
keeping in touch
learning hebrew
reading something other than formula thrillers
calling my professor's sister who lives in jerusalem (he asked me to)
research for my islamic mysticism paper
um...getting out of my apartment
I suppose that about covers it. I feel better already--that's not so long! Now that I've collected it into a neat little list, I barely feel the need to take any action at all.
Last night I had a nightmare that I was on a sinking ship. I was not upset about this at all. In fact I went on a swimming race with someone else from the ship, a guy who was immensely concerned with my welfare. He was faster than me. Maybe he saved my life. Anyway, suddenly I was walking on the sinking hull of this sinking ship, wading through the ankle-deep water. I was talking to Brett. I was trying to convince him to get off the ship, and he was angry at me. I was asking him questions about things I couldn't recall from our relationship. I had an image of him gently taking care of baby birds that I couldn't place in my memory. We argued.
In my dreams he is always so wise, so strong, so much like I remember him. I have attached to him a personality that doesn't exist, that never did. I even know when I did it--back in college when Paul and I broke up and I was heartbroken. I conjured up this new and improved Brett--a safe image since I could never imagine myself being with him--and this idealized image, this edited memory, helped me get over Paul. I never thought it would be this dangerous, never realized that once the little jury in my brain is convinced, it will not be unconvinced of guilt or innocence. As far as my subconscious is concerned, perfection is this man I've created, and he has Brett's face.
So I suppose he's back in my dreams again because of Jef. Breaking up with him was by far the most traumatic breakup I've ever been through. Who better to help me get over it then my own personal hero, invented and given life by me? Only it doesn't work this time, because there's no feet to put beneath the fantasy. The real Brett is married, lesser, bloodless. I know who he is, and he doesn't measure up to the jury's verdict. Which puts me in an odd predicament: an image in my dreams that is strong enough to confuse and hurt me, but too weak to help and heal me as it did before.
Who's sinking on that ship, him or me?
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
Back again
It's been a long, long time. I'm sitting in my apartment in Israel, completely alone for the first time in three months, and feeling almost beside myself. My parents and Anne both left early this morning, so I feel that extra loneliness that comes with sitting in an empty apartment that was only hours ago overflowing.
I did have two extra days with them, however. My grandfather's flight had just made it out, and my parents were waiting to go through security at the airport, when the municipal workers of Israel announced that they were on strike, and that most government offices would be closed indefinitely, including the ports and airports. So my parents took a taxi back home, and we waited it out for two days until they could make it on a flight. It was a wonderful two days, if not a bit stressful.
Soon I'll put up some pictures from our whirlwind tour--a week in Italy and a week in Israel--of which I am told there are almost three hundred in my dad's digital camera. Maybe then I'll have more energy, not being so sad as I am now, and can write all about it as well.
It's good to be home.
I did have two extra days with them, however. My grandfather's flight had just made it out, and my parents were waiting to go through security at the airport, when the municipal workers of Israel announced that they were on strike, and that most government offices would be closed indefinitely, including the ports and airports. So my parents took a taxi back home, and we waited it out for two days until they could make it on a flight. It was a wonderful two days, if not a bit stressful.
Soon I'll put up some pictures from our whirlwind tour--a week in Italy and a week in Israel--of which I am told there are almost three hundred in my dad's digital camera. Maybe then I'll have more energy, not being so sad as I am now, and can write all about it as well.
It's good to be home.
Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Fifteen minutes
In fifteen minutes a taxi will be here to sweep me off to the airport and home. I haven't posted in a long time. It gets hard near the end of the year, when every day looks the same--a cycle of eat sleep and study. Soon I will have so much more time...I am hungry for my country...I am desperate to see Jef and my family....I am going home!!!
Maybe I will see some of you there?
Maybe I will see some of you there?
Monday, June 14, 2004
One more week to go
I just realized today that in one week I am going home. It is approaching so fast--which would make me happy if I didn't have so much to get done. Perhaps I shall make a list. Number one: STUDY. I have a sort-of dual study marathon going on--papers by day, snug in the computer lab at school, and Arabic by night. I have let Hebrew fall a bit to the wayside, but it must be done. Number two: Pack up my stuff. This must happen relatively quickly, as the summer tenants will already be here, and no doubt moving into my room, four days before I leave. Number three: meet with my absentee professor. I am supposed to be writing a seminar paper for this man, only I have been unable to contact him for the ENTIRE SEMESTER. He does not answer any of my e-mails. So I shall resort to calling him at home. Tonight. Number four: buy wedding presents for the three or four weddings I am to attend this summer, not to mention overdue birthday presents for a number of important people...Number five: I forget. But I know there is one.
Anyway, Pupik has found a home, which eases much of my stress. He is still here, however, as I have been reluctant to give him up. He cuddles with me every night, and is so adorable as to be nearly heartbreaking.
Also: I see Jef in eight days. Count them. One two three four five six seven eight. Hooray!!
Anyway, Pupik has found a home, which eases much of my stress. He is still here, however, as I have been reluctant to give him up. He cuddles with me every night, and is so adorable as to be nearly heartbreaking.
Also: I see Jef in eight days. Count them. One two three four five six seven eight. Hooray!!
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Ramallah
While most of my days of late have been spent in the library, I have managed to fit in some other, less boring-for-writing-about activities. On Monday, Luise and I hopped the sherut to Ramallah, after having promised Shadi that we would visit him in his new Falafal shop.
The trip across the border was hassle-free. I suppose anyone can go to the territories. It's coming back that's the problem. So it was pretty simple, and dirt cheap to get there. Most of my friends told us we were crazy, including my roomate. It seems that everybody is convinced that you can't visit Palestine without being robbed/lynched/shot or worse. Being pretty sure that this wasn't the case at all, Luise and I went anyway.
A big surprise: most of Ramallah, at least the part that we saw, is beautiful. The downtown area is a bit rundown, with typical willy-nilly traffic, huge signs running up the sides of buildings, and graffiti, but it wasn't all that bad. No worse than certain parts of Jerusalem. And driving out towards Shadi's mall: amazing. All the buildings seemed brand new, white and glistening, the streets were well-paved (having been recently redone after the latest air-strike six months ago, which left them a mess) and clean; there were trees everywhere. Nobody stared at us or harassed us; in fact everyone was kind and helpful. Definitely not what I'd expected.
I'm sure there are parts of Ramallah that display the poverty I've heard so much about, but the West Bank is obviously more prosperous than Gaza, and a lot of Ramallah was built up in the short-lived halcyon days following Oslo. The only mar on the pretty landscape was Arafat's huge compound, right in the middle of the suburbs--a walled in mini-war-zone. Past the walls I could just glimpse the remains of several buildings, and piles of stone and rubble. I kept thinking: inside is the architect of so much suffering. I almost thought: blow it off the face of the earth. But I restrained myself.
We had shawarma with Shadi, and then he drove us around a bit. We saw the theatre where he works, which was really amazing--this little black-box theatre. Shadi's picture was up on the wall in some play or another, along with several awards and posters for previous shows. We met some of his friends, who were all very nice, and communicated quite well with us in broken English.
One man started speaking to me in Arabic, and continued after I told him I was American, convinced I couldn't be. Apparently I look Arab. I get this a lot here. But finally he switched to English, and started explaining to us the map of Palestine on the wall that detailed Israel's separation fence. He pointed to it and said "Israel take all of this," meaning the massive amount of land Israel wants to contain within the fence in order to surround its settlements. But then he started laughing and telling jokes. "Is good, the fence. Our children no get lost. We can let them to play, and they can go as far they want, all the way to the fence. Then they turn around and come home. Nobody get lost in Palestine!" He was really sweet.
After that, we went for ice cream and bought some Arabic books. Then we started the journey back, through two checkpoints--one of which we had to approach one person at a time. It wasn't that bad though, really. But it must be absolutely horrible when there's a long long line.
I hope to go back to Ramallah. Shadi wants us to spend the night sometime, go to a party, hang out all day. No time left this year, but hopefully next semester. We'll see.
The trip across the border was hassle-free. I suppose anyone can go to the territories. It's coming back that's the problem. So it was pretty simple, and dirt cheap to get there. Most of my friends told us we were crazy, including my roomate. It seems that everybody is convinced that you can't visit Palestine without being robbed/lynched/shot or worse. Being pretty sure that this wasn't the case at all, Luise and I went anyway.
A big surprise: most of Ramallah, at least the part that we saw, is beautiful. The downtown area is a bit rundown, with typical willy-nilly traffic, huge signs running up the sides of buildings, and graffiti, but it wasn't all that bad. No worse than certain parts of Jerusalem. And driving out towards Shadi's mall: amazing. All the buildings seemed brand new, white and glistening, the streets were well-paved (having been recently redone after the latest air-strike six months ago, which left them a mess) and clean; there were trees everywhere. Nobody stared at us or harassed us; in fact everyone was kind and helpful. Definitely not what I'd expected.
I'm sure there are parts of Ramallah that display the poverty I've heard so much about, but the West Bank is obviously more prosperous than Gaza, and a lot of Ramallah was built up in the short-lived halcyon days following Oslo. The only mar on the pretty landscape was Arafat's huge compound, right in the middle of the suburbs--a walled in mini-war-zone. Past the walls I could just glimpse the remains of several buildings, and piles of stone and rubble. I kept thinking: inside is the architect of so much suffering. I almost thought: blow it off the face of the earth. But I restrained myself.
We had shawarma with Shadi, and then he drove us around a bit. We saw the theatre where he works, which was really amazing--this little black-box theatre. Shadi's picture was up on the wall in some play or another, along with several awards and posters for previous shows. We met some of his friends, who were all very nice, and communicated quite well with us in broken English.
One man started speaking to me in Arabic, and continued after I told him I was American, convinced I couldn't be. Apparently I look Arab. I get this a lot here. But finally he switched to English, and started explaining to us the map of Palestine on the wall that detailed Israel's separation fence. He pointed to it and said "Israel take all of this," meaning the massive amount of land Israel wants to contain within the fence in order to surround its settlements. But then he started laughing and telling jokes. "Is good, the fence. Our children no get lost. We can let them to play, and they can go as far they want, all the way to the fence. Then they turn around and come home. Nobody get lost in Palestine!" He was really sweet.
After that, we went for ice cream and bought some Arabic books. Then we started the journey back, through two checkpoints--one of which we had to approach one person at a time. It wasn't that bad though, really. But it must be absolutely horrible when there's a long long line.
I hope to go back to Ramallah. Shadi wants us to spend the night sometime, go to a party, hang out all day. No time left this year, but hopefully next semester. We'll see.
Friday, June 04, 2004
Impending heat wave
Apparently Jerusalem is all set to experience a massive heat wave for the next few days. I actually welcome this, as I still get confused when the days are so hot and the nights are freezing. Plus, there's Luise's balcony to consider. We sat out there all day yesterday and studied Hebrew. It was lovely, minus the studying part. Last night we went to see "The Day After Tomorrow," and I rather enjoyed it. I have a weakness for disaster movies--even though they wreak havoc on my fingernails, as they are usually wittled down to nothin somewhere between the hero getting trapped in the New York library and everything on earth freezing in an instant.
Speaking of fingers, I banged mine up pretty good yesterday. A mug fell on it. My pinky. Boy did that smart. The nail is all black now. It would be neato if it fell off, I think. The nail, not the finger.
Speaking of fingers, I banged mine up pretty good yesterday. A mug fell on it. My pinky. Boy did that smart. The nail is all black now. It would be neato if it fell off, I think. The nail, not the finger.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Ah, computer woes
My poor computer has been experiencing terrible fits of uselessness--freezing up every thirty seconds, shutting down, and various other temper tantrums of the sort, and I've been going a bit crazy. But today, I write.
Have been more diligent with the studies, as the end of the semester nears--speaking with teachers, finishing up research, actually cracking a book every once in a while. Took a break last night, however, to go to a restaurant in the German Colony with a bunch of people to say goodbye to Helen, who (sigh) leaves on Friday. Ksenia and Luise, praise God, got their scholarships, so they'll be here next year...but Helen was only here for a year to begin with. So sad goodbye.
Anyway, back to work.
Have been more diligent with the studies, as the end of the semester nears--speaking with teachers, finishing up research, actually cracking a book every once in a while. Took a break last night, however, to go to a restaurant in the German Colony with a bunch of people to say goodbye to Helen, who (sigh) leaves on Friday. Ksenia and Luise, praise God, got their scholarships, so they'll be here next year...but Helen was only here for a year to begin with. So sad goodbye.
Anyway, back to work.
Friday, May 28, 2004
Shuv Chola
So now I'm sick. The flu or something, who knows. Anyway, I'm bedridden and alone. Everybody should feel sorry for me.
Due to this illness, there is not much to write about. I have been inside my house for the past few days, attempting to sleep as much as humanly possible. I feel a bit better today, so I intend to work on my paper for Early Jewish and Christian interperetation of the Bible. I'm writing about the shadowy figure of Melchizedek, who shows up briefly in Genesis 14 (in two verses obviously inserted later into the text), then again in a strange Psalm, 110, and finally plays a tremendous role in the New Testemant epistle to the Hebrews. It's fascinating stuff, really. I love all the research part. It's the transforming all my research into a coherent paper that troubles me. But I shall endure.
Due to this illness, there is not much to write about. I have been inside my house for the past few days, attempting to sleep as much as humanly possible. I feel a bit better today, so I intend to work on my paper for Early Jewish and Christian interperetation of the Bible. I'm writing about the shadowy figure of Melchizedek, who shows up briefly in Genesis 14 (in two verses obviously inserted later into the text), then again in a strange Psalm, 110, and finally plays a tremendous role in the New Testemant epistle to the Hebrews. It's fascinating stuff, really. I love all the research part. It's the transforming all my research into a coherent paper that troubles me. But I shall endure.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Pupik 2
So the cat has a terrible case of ringworm, and we have to bathe him in this special shampoo every third day for the next few weeks. He's still unbelievably adorable, unless you turn him over and see that all the hair on his underside has fallen off. Anyway, it's just one more thing stressing me out. But I don't really have a choice, unless I want to turn out a tiny defenseless baby into the street. I suppose I can handle the inconvenience for a little while.
School is going well, and the research for my papers is somewhat underway. I found out I only have to do three papers, and a take-home test, which was a source of great relief for me. I still haven't come up with a topic for my Maimonides paper. I meet with my professor tomorrow to throw myself at his mercy.
School is going well, and the research for my papers is somewhat underway. I found out I only have to do three papers, and a take-home test, which was a source of great relief for me. I still haven't come up with a topic for my Maimonides paper. I meet with my professor tomorrow to throw myself at his mercy.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Of cabbages and kings
I got a 76 on my midterm, much much better than expected. Hooray! Thank God I don't get a grade in Hebrew, lest I feel the need to obsess about that class as much as all the others. As it stands, I haven't been satisfied with a 76 on anything since high school.
I am in strange spirits. Feeling weighed down quite a bit, a little sad even. At the same time, life is going along nicely here. The Student party the other night was fun, lots of people and a live band and plenty of beer and dancing. I spent a long time talking with this Druze guy, who explained to me a bit about the mysterious Druze religion before asking for my number. I still have no idea how to react when guys ask me that, especially when I'm not interested. But how can you talk to someone for two hours, dance salsa with them, and politely tell them you'd rather they not call you? Especially when they're nice, and of course you would enjoy hanging out with them again, if only you could be certain they just wanted to be friends.
In another news, I was completely out of money. My bank graciously allowed me to be overdrawn for a while, as I waited for more money to rain down on me from...somewhere. And lo and behold, Dad calls me today to tell me that Uncle Sam has seen fit to return to me four hundred some dollars, no doubt after having seen the pathetic figure of my income in the past year or two. Or three. I always get miracles just when I need them.
I am in strange spirits. Feeling weighed down quite a bit, a little sad even. At the same time, life is going along nicely here. The Student party the other night was fun, lots of people and a live band and plenty of beer and dancing. I spent a long time talking with this Druze guy, who explained to me a bit about the mysterious Druze religion before asking for my number. I still have no idea how to react when guys ask me that, especially when I'm not interested. But how can you talk to someone for two hours, dance salsa with them, and politely tell them you'd rather they not call you? Especially when they're nice, and of course you would enjoy hanging out with them again, if only you could be certain they just wanted to be friends.
In another news, I was completely out of money. My bank graciously allowed me to be overdrawn for a while, as I waited for more money to rain down on me from...somewhere. And lo and behold, Dad calls me today to tell me that Uncle Sam has seen fit to return to me four hundred some dollars, no doubt after having seen the pathetic figure of my income in the past year or two. Or three. I always get miracles just when I need them.
Monday, May 10, 2004
Midweek
I've been fighting a certain lethargy of late, which is why I haven't been posting much. A lot is, of course, going on, but it's unbearably hot today all of a sudden, and I keep putting off the long catch-up that I know is necessary. I finally have pictures from Petra, and maybe I'll even put them in an album at some point-- by tomorrow at the latest.
Two holidays this week: last Saturday was Lag B'omer, midway between Pesach and Shavuot, celebrated with huge bonfires visible in every part of the country. I went to the Katz's, who were having a party, and sat in front of the fire, eating far too much, and practicing Hebrew with their many guests. I particularly enjoy talking to children, who find it very odd that they can speak better than I do and that I often don't understand them.
Tomorrow is Student Day, which means I don't have class, and there's a huge party at the University tonight. I shall be in attendance.
Two holidays this week: last Saturday was Lag B'omer, midway between Pesach and Shavuot, celebrated with huge bonfires visible in every part of the country. I went to the Katz's, who were having a party, and sat in front of the fire, eating far too much, and practicing Hebrew with their many guests. I particularly enjoy talking to children, who find it very odd that they can speak better than I do and that I often don't understand them.
Tomorrow is Student Day, which means I don't have class, and there's a huge party at the University tonight. I shall be in attendance.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Hebrew Midterm
I have to go take my Hebrew midterm in a few minutes. I am certainly not prepared. Mainly because we don't have a specific book that lays out all that we're supposed to know; our teacher writes up her own pages and lesson plans, and this is just too confusing for me. Especially since I make it a point to miss at least one class a week. So, we'll see how it goes.
Pupik is doing very well. He is absolutely adorable, and I miss him when he's with one of his other caretakers. It will be hard to give him up, but I know that I must. He looks so much like Koti it's eerie. I miss Koti, and my parents' threats to get rid of her frighten me! Ah, but they know I would punish them severely if they did. Maybe stay in Israel to get my Phd? Volunteer in Iraq reconstruction? Anything's possible.
Pupik is doing very well. He is absolutely adorable, and I miss him when he's with one of his other caretakers. It will be hard to give him up, but I know that I must. He looks so much like Koti it's eerie. I miss Koti, and my parents' threats to get rid of her frighten me! Ah, but they know I would punish them severely if they did. Maybe stay in Israel to get my Phd? Volunteer in Iraq reconstruction? Anything's possible.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Saturday, May 01, 2004
Pupik
Yesterday I was walking to Helen's dorm from my apartment when I heard a tiny, constant meowing coming from inside the fence surrounding the dorms. I couldn't see where it was; the grass is so overgrown there. I hurried into the complex and around the other side. Unfortunately, there are two fences separating the dorms from the big, bad world, and between them there is a kind of jungle-like no man's land. It was from this unreachable place whence came the ever insistent cries.
My maternal instict also being somewhat overgrown, I started calling to the kitten hiding somewhere in the brush. I called to it for fifteen minutes, and just as I had decided to risk being arrested by climbing over the fence, I saw the tall grass rustle a few meters from the fence. I started calling again, and the rustling moved towards me. I kept calling until a tiny black and white face appeared through the weeds, struggling to climb over a downed telephone pole blocking its path. It was then that I noticed the poor creature's eyes were either missing or permanently shut with a nasty-looking ooze, and it was feeling its way towards me by my voice alone.
It had a hard time with the telephone pole, and stood there crying and trying to get its bearings for a few minutes, then finally took the plunge and slid down the side. I kept calling it and it walked all the way through the remaining underbrush until it found me on the other side of the fence.
So I was basically stuck. Having culled an unfortunate, blind, ridiculously tiny kitten from its lonely misery, I simply had to take responsibility for it. Ksenia, Helen, Ariel and I managed to track down an emergency vet, who promptly cleaned out its eyes--which work fine, but were horribly infected--dewormed and defleaed it, and sent us home with two weeks worth of antibiotics. We couldn't leave it there, as with Israel's cat problem, they have to put down kittens that young that have been abandoned.
So, naturally, we will take care of it. We've already found someone who wants to adopt it, but first it has to be healed and healthy, as she works all the time and can't feed it every three hours. So little Pupik (Hebrew for belly-button, a kind of backwards nickname, as I called him Puppy and thought he deserved a real name) will be with us for two or three weeks. He is more than precious. Three weeks old, and smaller than my hand. Pictures forthcoming.
My maternal instict also being somewhat overgrown, I started calling to the kitten hiding somewhere in the brush. I called to it for fifteen minutes, and just as I had decided to risk being arrested by climbing over the fence, I saw the tall grass rustle a few meters from the fence. I started calling again, and the rustling moved towards me. I kept calling until a tiny black and white face appeared through the weeds, struggling to climb over a downed telephone pole blocking its path. It was then that I noticed the poor creature's eyes were either missing or permanently shut with a nasty-looking ooze, and it was feeling its way towards me by my voice alone.
It had a hard time with the telephone pole, and stood there crying and trying to get its bearings for a few minutes, then finally took the plunge and slid down the side. I kept calling it and it walked all the way through the remaining underbrush until it found me on the other side of the fence.
So I was basically stuck. Having culled an unfortunate, blind, ridiculously tiny kitten from its lonely misery, I simply had to take responsibility for it. Ksenia, Helen, Ariel and I managed to track down an emergency vet, who promptly cleaned out its eyes--which work fine, but were horribly infected--dewormed and defleaed it, and sent us home with two weeks worth of antibiotics. We couldn't leave it there, as with Israel's cat problem, they have to put down kittens that young that have been abandoned.
So, naturally, we will take care of it. We've already found someone who wants to adopt it, but first it has to be healed and healthy, as she works all the time and can't feed it every three hours. So little Pupik (Hebrew for belly-button, a kind of backwards nickname, as I called him Puppy and thought he deserved a real name) will be with us for two or three weeks. He is more than precious. Three weeks old, and smaller than my hand. Pictures forthcoming.
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